Odin's Revenge - The Abduction Of Arthur
by scarletpampernel
Summary: A badly wounded Merlin is helpless to prevent Arthur's abduction by a ruthless enemy from the young king's past bent on the ultimate revenge. Takes place early seas. 4 after Uther's death. WARNINGS! no M/A slash but RATED M for a suggested m/m scene (not explicit) and other adult content; language; violence/Arthur whumping, temp. char. deaths (but all ends well for our heroes)


**Story Synopsis: **A badly wounded Merlin is helpless to prevent Arthur's abduction by a ruthless enemy from the young king's past who is bent on the ultimate revenge, including the fall of Camelot. (takes place early season 4 and after Uther's death)

**Story Themes/Genres: **Dark Drama, Fantasy/Adventure, Friendship Bond, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance

**PLEASE NOTE WARNINGS**! no M/A slash _**but**_ **RATED M** for a suggested m/m scene (not explicit) and other adult content; some language; violence (esp. in Arthur whumping scenes, but not overly gory); temporary character deaths (i,e. all is not lost, and Merlin even finds romance along the way)

_**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fan fiction based on some of the characters from the popular British TV series, Merlin. I do not claim any ownership or other rights to the characters of Merlin, Arthur, Uther, Morgana, Agravaine, Ygraine, Gaius, Guinevere, Arthur's knights, King Odin, Kilgharrah or any others mentioned herein who belong to the series and its creators. This story is a work of pure fiction and is intended for entertainment purposes only. It and the additional characters of Sir Abersol, Alice, Godwin, Molly, Gerrid, Bertha, Cyrus, and others not part of the original Merlin TV series canon are purely those created from my imagination for the sake of this tale. No profit has or is intended to be made from this work of fan fiction._

**Attribution **for photo used of Chateau de Pierrefonds (setting of Arthur's castle in Merlin TV series) is courtesy of talented photographer **Eric Pouhier at Wikipedia**

* * *

**ODIN'S REVENGE - THE ABDUCTION OF ARTHUR**

**Prologue**

Two cloaked and hooded figures stood hidden in the deepening shadows of a narrow alleyway in a rough section of the lower town. Anyone observing them would have guessed that something nefarious was underfoot, such as the exchange of stolen goods, the purchase of illicit drugs, human trafficking, or in this case, the sale of sensitive information. The two men conversing were well-hidden in the foul-smelling narrow passageway. But even if they'd been seen no one would have dared intrude upon a clandestine meeting in this part of the old city; that is, not unless they wanted their throat slit or a dagger slipped between their ribs.

"You are sure that the boy will ride out in the early hours accompanied by only one servant?" the taller and broader of the two cloaked figures whispered.

"Aye, me-lord, as I told ye, I personally overhead his plan to leave the castle in disguise as soon as dawn breaks, and he seldom goes anywhere without the servant. They'll be traveling toward the deeper woodlands."

"Describe them."

Glancing furtively around, the informant replied in even lower tones, "They'll be wearing servants' clothing with cowls. They be of an age and height, but in other ways are as different as the day is to the night. The one ye want be fair-haired, with a face and form that draws the eye, while the other…the servant…be dark-haired and on the skinny side."

The taller figure nodded, teeth flashing behind his red beard, pleased with the information.

From beneath his dark cloak he retrieved a small brown leather pouch sagging with gold coins. "If your information is correct and we capture the boy, you shall be doubly rewarded," he murmured, handing the bag to the informant.

* * *

**PART ONE:  
Ambush and Abduction**

Smothering another yawn, Merlin dutifully tramped along behind Arthur shouldering a bulky rucksack that contained the pheasant and quail the young king had already killed that morning. Merlin could see that the hunt had put Arthur in a much better mood than he'd been in over the past few days, which at least was a blessing and therefore worth coming out at dawn's break to go hunting on this early winter's day.

Merlin's stomach growled, and he smiled wryly to himself. Okay, well, it was _almost_ worth it since neither he nor Arthur had eaten a decent breakfast before they left. Arthur, who was so anxious to be away from the castle before his uncle or someone else came looking for him, had insisted that they take only strips of dried venison, small crusty bread rolls, and flasks of water to eat and drink along the journey. Hardly hearty fare.

His blue-eyed gaze fell on the back of his friend, who was walking a little ahead of him, hunting bow at the ready, as he scanned the surrounding woodlands for more game. Merlin could tell that Arthur was in his element right now, although to Merlin the hunting and killing of forest creatures, whether large or small, was anything but the type of relaxing fun that Arthur found it to be.

He also knew that the young king was vastly pleased that the two of them had slipped away from the castle's confines with little attention being paid to two young men dressed in servants' garments who merely seemed to be going about their business.

Merlin smiled to himself. He usually performed his duties as personal servant to Arthur with little notice anyway; but there was no mistaking the King's bright golden hair, large and vivid blue eyes, or striking good looks—so a head covering had been a necessary part of Arthur's disguise. And the solution for that had been a cowl, or hood, which covered not only the entire head, but could be pulled forward to half-conceal the face as well. There was nothing suspicious in that since many men wore them this time of year to protect their heads and faces from the elements.

That morning when they'd gone to the stables Arthur had waited outside, eyes downcast and face lowered so none of the stable hands or any passersby would realize who he actually was. He'd sent Merlin in to fetch them two nondescript horses that also would not draw undue attention, unlike Arthur's magnificent steed which would have been immediately recognized.

Merlin also knew that Arthur loved it when he could travel to distant villages and meet the people or visit a local tavern where his face was not as well known, dressed as a peasant or servant. It was one way he kept his royal finger on the pulse of his realm. But such ventures also temporarily allowed him to escape the many pressing duties which now weighed even more heavily on his young shoulders since he'd become king. But despite his youth and relative inexperience, Arthur was proving to be a good and fair ruler who worried continually about the state of his kingdom and the welfare of his subjects, who had adored him as their prince and now idolized him even more as their king.

However, a few days earlier, while dressing in preparation for a long and boring council meeting, Arthur had somewhat wistfully confided to his manservant, "Sometimes I just wish I had as much freedom from worry and responsibility as you, Merlin. You don't know how fortunate you are."

The young warlock had rolled his eyes behind Arthur's back when he had turned away to leave for the meeting. It may have been true that Merlin did not have a vast kingdom to rule or safeguard….but he did have a headstrong young king to guide and protect. And as Arthur's servant and constant companion for the past few years he had been anything but 'worry free.' Just keeping Arthur alive and out of danger or harm's way, albeit secretly, had proven a nerve-wracking task. And Merlin's more mundane responsibilities as Arthur's personal manservant also kept him hopping on a daily basis.

His attention was drawn back to the present as snowflakes began to settle on his hair and clothing. Looking up, Merlin realized it was indeed beginning to snow, the first of the season. He pulled his hood back up over his dark hair and squinted skyward again, wondering if he might persuade Arthur to head back to Camelot before the weather worsened since the sky was beginning to look a bit ominous. As it was, they'd have a long trek back to where they'd tethered their horses before starting out on foot in this direction.

His hopeful gaze fell on Arthur again, and he sighed with resignation. It was apparent that the King was oblivious to the falling snow—which was beginning to dampen and cling to his pale hair—since he'd not yet pulled up the protective cowl of his own servant's garment.

"Why must I do even the simplest things for him? It really is like looking after a child at times," Merlin muttered to himself, quickening his pace to catch up to Arthur with the intent of insisting he cover his head before he caught a deathly chill.

He suddenly felt a stinging moistness on his face, and looking skyward again saw that the snow was now beginning to turn to sleet.

* * *

Behind a screening of dense brush six men crouched, weapons drawn, watching and waiting as Arthur and Merlin drew nearer. Unlike Arthur, who was too focused on his hunting to pay much heed to the change in the weather, they were all keenly aware that it had started to snow and sleet; but they were hardened and seasoned warriors who had a mission to do, and now their own quarry were close at hand.

"Aim for the dark haired one, the servant," their leader whispered to the man on his right, who held a small crossbow ready in his hands. "And remember, the fair-haired youth is to be captured and subdued as necessary, but he is not to be killed," he reminded his men, who all nodded in understanding.

* * *

Unaware of the deadly peril awaiting him and Arthur, Merlin's reveries were broken when his friend suddenly exclaimed in a low but sharp tone, "Merlin! Did you do that?" Blinking himself back into the moment at hand, Merlin stared in confusion at Arthur, who had stopped walking and now stood facing him a few feet away, an expression of annoyance on his handsome face.

Unsure of Arthur's meaning or why he now seemed so aggravated, Merlin gave him a lopsided grin and jokingly replied, "Uh, did I do what, Sire…make it start snowing and sleeting so we can go home now?"

Arthur made a face and retorted, "No, you dolt! I meant did you scare off that fat lot of grouse that just took flight. Something spooked them out of hiding!" His large cobalt blue eyes glanced meaningfully away from Merlin to look skyward.

The young sorcerer followed his gaze, seeing the startled birds as they scattered overhead and then regrouped before wheeling off in a southerly direction. "Arthur, I've been behind you this entire time," he pointed out. "How could I possibly have scared them off?"

Ignoring the sense of his logic, the King grumbled, "Well, for some reason they were frightened out of hiding, and since I know it wasn't me I thought…." He stopped in mid-sentence as something whizzed past his left shoulder—and then blinked in shock and horror as Merlin gave a sharp grunt of pain and staggered back, dropping the rucksack.

For the space of a few heartbeats the two youths stared in disbelief at the arrow bolt now protruding from Merlin's chest. Then instinctively Arthur started toward him, but Merlin looked up and past him, and then locked anguished blue eyes with his and gasped in warning, "_NO!_ _RUN!_" before his knees buckled under him and he collapsed to the cold wet ground.

As Merlin fell Arthur heard the sound of movement behind him and he dropped his hunting bow and whirled defensively, pulling his sword from its scabbard just as a half dozen large and armed men dressed in nondescript clothing emerged from the thickets several feet away. Each was well over 6 feet tall and their expressions were menacing as they stared intently at him.

Arthur's first thought was that he and Merlin had been set upon by bandits wanting money. But that idea was quickly dispelled when their apparent leader, a bald man with hard brown eyes whose scarred face was half covered by a thick red beard, called to him in a graveled voice, "Put up your sword, Pendragon. You stand no chance against us, and by willingly surrendering now and coming with us peacefully you shall suffer the less for it."

Whoever they were, Arthur realized, they knew his identity and were after him specifically, perhaps for ransom since they'd not killed him outright. He became filled with rage because of Merlin's senseless death, and so he was not about to make his own capture easy for them. He shrugged off his leather arrow quiver and let it fall to the ground alongside his bow. It would only encumber him, and the hunting bow was useless against a man armed with a loaded crossbow; plus he'd never be able to load and align his own aim fast enough to take down six men at this close range.

Thinking by Arthur's action that he was about to surrender himself, the red-bearded leader ordered him, "Now put away your sword as well, boy."

Arthur gave him a cool smile and shook his head. "Six to one are the type of odds I usually favor," he retorted challengingly, assuming a defensive stance with the sword and eyeing his adversaries warily as they began to fan out around him.

The leader gave a curt laugh. "Such a bold but foolhardy little peacock! Very well, I see we shall have to do this the painful way then," he grinned, and signaled his men into action.

* * *

Crumpled on the cold wet earth on his right side, Merlin fought to stay conscious. The arrow embedded in his chest was excruciating, making it hard to breath, and he could feel the warmth of his own blood as it swelled from the wound and stained his clothing; but his fear was for Arthur's life, not his own.

He watched helplessly as several large men slowly encircled Camelot's young king. Despite his youth Arthur was a courageous warrior and brilliant swordsman, but even Merlin could see that he was clearly outmatched by the number and sheer towering size and brute strength of his foes, who apparently knew who he was.

Merlin's vision began to dim and he desperately fought to steady his fading senses so he could muster the strength to cast a spell powerful enough to help Arthur. "_Dominaeum frobath abaesi…_." he began to mutter, but quickly lost his concentration. His chest felt on fire and his senses kept reeling, making it impossible to focus long enough on the spell he was trying to conjure.

He cared not at that moment that Arthur would finally discover that he possessed the ability to wield magic. All Merlin knew was that he had to save his friend and Camelot's new king, whose life and future destiny had been entrusted into his care from the moment they'd met. But try as he might, Merlin could not conjure and hold the spell to ward off Arthur's attackers, and to his horror he could only watch as the men fully encircled his friend and closed in on him.

If things weren't bad enough, the sleeting snow began to intensify, pelting at all of them and adding to the surreal and deadly atmosphere of the scene.

* * *

Arthur fought bravely, spinning left and right, ducking, thrusting and parrying as he deflected or avoided their weapons. He even managed to wound two of them. But within minutes they'd gotten the advantage of him. His sword arm was slashed, making it easier for the red-bearded man to knock the youth's blade out of his hand. When that happened one of the other brigands moved up behind Arthur and raised his blade high, swinging it purposely downward toward the young man's fair head as if to slay him.

In his clouding mind Merlin screamed a silent, anguished _NOOOO_!

However, the man used the flat of his sword so that the blow was merely meant to stun the youth as it stuck his head. With a startled half cry Arthur staggered then slipped on the accumulating icy snow, falling onto all fours. Although dazed, he grasped his sword, which lay within reach, and desperately tried to get up; but before he could regain his footing the same brigand loomed over him and struck him across the side of the head, but with much more force than before, using the unyielding solid cross-guard of his sword hilt this time.

With an inarticulate sound Arthur pitched forward onto the frozen ground and lay still.

He had fallen facing Merlin, and even from that distance of several yards the young warlock could see bright crimson begin to stain Arthur's damp flaxen hair and rivulet slowly down his chalky, closed face, splotching the pristine white snow beneath where he lay.

He looked utterly lifeless, Merlin thought frantically. Had their attackers killed him after all?

That same possibility must have occurred to the men encircling Arthur's sprawled inert form as they stared down at him and at each other nervously.

"You bloody idiot!" barked the red-bearded leader, glaring at the man who'd struck Arthur down. "You may have hit him too hard! King Odin wanted him alive and relatively unharmed!"

"I…I'm sorry, my lord," the brigand stammered, "but he was putting up such a fight…and…and we were told to subdue the boy with whatever means necessary."

As he spoke, one of the other men knelt by Arthur, examining him. "He's still breathing, my lord," he pronounced, "but he has a deep scalp wound, and he might even be concussed."

The leader sighed heavily. "Well, there's naught we can do for any of that now." To the two men Arthur had managed to wound he said, "Bind your injuries. They'll be better tended to when we return to the Keep." To the man who had struck Arthur he directed, "Go with them to fetch the horses where we hid them." As all three nodded and turned away the leader said to his two remaining men, "When they return, pick up Pendragon and sling him over my saddle. I'll take him with me."

"My lord, what of the other boy, the servant?" one of the men asked, and red beard glanced over toward where Merlin had fallen, curled on his side with the arrow still embedded in his chest, his glazed blue eyes mere slits. The sleeting snow was beginning to cover his still form in an icy coating.

'He's of no consequence. We have the one we came for. Besides, he'll bleed out soon enough if he isn't already dead. In any case this accursed weather or the wolves shall finish him off."

* * *

Merlin felt a surge of hope. Arthur was still alive! But the red-bearded man had mentioned Odin, a ruthless rival king who had tried more than once to have Arthur assassinated—and now wounded and helpless he was going to be delivered into his enemy's hands without Merlin there to protect him.

The young warlock tried to bring forth another spell to prevent these dangerous men from leaving with their captive, but a surge of vertigo overtook him. And the last thing Merlin remembered seeing were two of the brigands lifting Arthur's bleeding and limp form before his own awareness faded.

* * *

Gaius heard an urgent rap on his chamber door, and looking up from the illustrated book of herbal remedies he'd been perusing, called out, "Yes? What is it?" To his surprise he saw the tall figure of Sir Leon enter, looking very grim-faced.

"Pardon this intrusion, Gaius," the sandy-haired knight apologized. "Lord Agravaine sent me to inquire if Merlin might know of the King's whereabouts?"

The elderly healer set the book aside and stood up, moving away from the table. "Are you saying you can't find Arthur?" he asked, frowning in consternation.

Sir Leon nodded. "No one has seen him in the palace all morning, and he is not in his chambers. My men made discreet inquiries in the town, but with little luck. They also checked the stables, but the King's horse is still there, and the stable master has not seen him. Would Merlin know…"

The physician shook his head. "Merlin isn't here, Sir Leon. I haven't seen him at all this morning. But he often rises before I do, and I assumed he was with Arthur."

The knight looked worried. "Actually, Gaius, no one recalls seeing Merlin going about his duties as usual, either. Nor did he go to the kitchens to fetch the King's breakfast. That's why we thought he might be with you for some reason, or at the very least you'd know where they both were. Lord Agravaine needs to find the King as there's a messenger who's come seeking an audience with him saying it is of vital importance."

Gaius walked over to him and patted him on the arm. "There's likely no cause for alarm. It's almost time for the noon meal, and I am sure Merlin will appear soon enough for that. Likely Arthur will have appeared by then as well since it seems he did not take time to break his fast this morning either. They may have gone to the vaults for some reason. Merlin made mention the other day that the King wanted to find the original plans of this castle, so they may also have gone to the library to search the records, and simply lost track of time as young people are wont to do. Have you checked either of those places?"

Sir Leon looked a little sheepish. "No," he admitted, shaking his head.

Gaius smiled reassuringly. "I'm sure there is a reasonable explanation and Arthur is safe somewhere deep within these walls."

* * *

Arthur was indeed within castle walls, but not his own. And he was far from being safe as he was now the wounded captive of a mortal enemy. Barely conscious, Camelot's youthful king was roughly dragged by red-beard and his men through Odin's vast stone fortress, which squatted upon an isolated seaside perch.

Because of the concussion, Arthur had a horrendous headache and his vision kept doubling and blurring as he was jostled along. In addition, the open wound in his sword arm had not been tended to and was still raw and bleeding, and the scalp laceration as well had not quit oozing.

The injured youth was taken to an austere chamber with 20-ft. high arching dark stone walls, its interior steeped in shadows since only a few wall braziers were lit. A large wooden throne chair rested upon a short raised dais, and Arthur vaguely noted that both the chair and the platform were made from ancient yew, or what was known as the 'death tree' because of the poisonous properties of its bark, needles and seeds—and the symbolism did not escape him.

In the chair sat a middle-aged man with neatly cropped beard and mustache which matched the slightly graying hair beneath the simple crown encircling his head. He was dressed in a long cream-colored sleeveless surcoat worn over chainmail, and on his breast was emblazoned the image of a ferocious wolf's head. The man's expression was watchful yet impassive as his men dragged Arthur toward the dais and forced him to his knees before their king, painfully pinning his arms behind his back.

"I've waited a long time for this moment, boy," Odin said with a cold half smile, his grey eyes glinting in the torchlight of the room as he took in Arthur's head and arm wounds, blood-covered face, and glazed blue eyes. He then stood and stepped down off the dais and moved to stand before his captive.

Trying to clear his muddled thoughts and unfocused vision, Arthur summoned an inner bravado. "Do not refer to me in that manner," he bit out. "Despite my youth by right I am as much a king now as you are, and although your prisoner still deserve the respect and treatment accorded to my title."

Odin gave an incredulous laugh and then backhanded Arthur hard across the face. The young man reeled back on his heels and would have fallen if red beard's men had not held him fast. The impact jarred his aching head so badly that he literally saw dark spots, and it took all his will to keep from passing out.

The older man leaned down close to him, staring into his pain-filled blue eyes and bloodied, bruised features. "You contemptuous whelp!" he grated. "You deserve ONLY to feel fear and pain, as my son must have before you murdered him. I am glad now that my previous assignation attempts failed, as I shall take great pleasure instead in watching you die a slow, agonizing death to atone for your cowardly villainy."

Arthur courageously met Odin's icy stare evenly despite his pounding head and now-swollen and bleeding lips from the king's blow. "Yet your emissaries ruthlessly murdered my manservant, who's never done you nor them any harm, heedless of how that would affect those who care about him!"

Glowering down at him, Odin was about to reply to that, but Arthur continued: "You are mistaken, my lord, in your belief that I murdered your son. He sought me out and challenged me to that fight. I tried to dissuade him, knowing he was no match for me as a swordsman. But he was drunk and would not back down and thus he gave me no choice but to defend myself. I did not wish to kill him, and there are many witnesses who can attest to the truth of it."

Odin straightened angrily. "Lies! All of it! As only can be expected from any Pendragon!"

Stealing himself for another blow, Arthur replied defiantly, "Again you are mistaken. I am a man of honor, and I am truly sorry for the loss of your son and the grief his death has caused you. If I could undo that, I would."

"Only your own agonizing death will bring me solace, boy, not your meaningless apology," Odin snarled, glaring down at him with pure malice reflected in those cold grey eyes.

Arthur tried to reason with him again. "Please don't do this, Odin. My kingdom….my people….need me to forge a better future for them as I have sworn to do. I do not wish for us to remain enemies. Can we not find a way to make peace and…."

Once more Odin laughed harshly and then reached down to grip Arthur's chin painfully, cutting him off and forcing his head back so he could stare into his eyes. "I have no interest in making peace with you, Pendragon. Without its callow boy king Camelot shall soon fall to me and its riches will be mine! Already hundreds of my soldiers are amassing on its borders."

Seeing the sudden alarm and desperation appear in his young captive's clouded blue eyes, he smiled with grim satisfaction and then released Arthur's chin.

"You underestimate the loyalty and strength of my knights and my own army! Camelot shall never fall to the likes of you nor will you ever sit on my throne!" Arthur spat out, struggling to pull away from the men who held him fast.

"Hold your insolent tongue, boy!" Odin growled in warning.

But Arthur continued defiantly: "I am NOT a _boy_! I am _KING_ Arthur Pendragon, rightful ruler of Camelot, and whether I live or die my name and my kingdom shall be remembered long after yours have rotted into nothingness and been forgotten!"

Odin's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You _will_ be SILENT!" he barked, and without warning struck Arthur hard across the face again. The violent second blow was too much for the young man's injured brain. As his head snapped back an explosion of blinding light and pain filled his head and vision, followed by obsidian darkness, and he collapsed in the restraining hands of the men holding him.

Standing over Arthur's sagging form, Odin made a curt motion toward the red-bearded man waiting nearby. "Sir Abersol, take him to the bowels of the dungeons, strip him and hang him from ceiling irons in the dankest and most foul cell there. When he has fully revived, lash him until he can withstand no more, revive him, and lash him again." As the king turned away from his unconscious captive and stepped back up upon the dais he added over his shoulder, "Just do not kill him—yet. I wish the belligerent brat kept alive until Camelot has fallen to me."

* * *

By evening everyone in the castle knew that Arthur and Merlin were both missing. Further investigation by Sir Leon and his men found that two horses taken from the stables that morning had also not been returned. Added to this, the stable hand who had gotten the mounts for the servant who had come to fetch them described him as a slim young man with dark hair and blue eyes.

Gaius had appeared before Lord Agravaine and the Council in an emergency session to answer questions regarding Merlin's activities that morning and the night before.

"As I told Sir Leon earlier when he came to ask me if I knew where Merlin and the King were, my lords, all I could tell him is that I'd not spoken to nor seen Merlin this morning. I simply assumed he'd risen early, as he often did, to attend to Arthur…awakening him, fetching him his breakfast, helping him dress…the usual sort of duties he did for the King each day."

"And what of this servant boy Merlin's behavior last evening? Did anything seem amiss?" Agravaine asked.

The elderly healer shook his head. 'No, my lord. We ate supper and chatted about our day. All seemed quite normal."

"So he didn't indicate that the King had planned to secretly leave the castle early this morning for some reason, then?"

Again Gaius shook his head. "Not at all. As I said, nothing seemed amiss last night." A sudden thought occurred to him. "My lords… it is my understanding that the King's horse is in the stables, yet two others were taken from there early this morning and have not yet been returned."

"That is correct," Agravaine nodded. "Do you think there is a connection then?"

Gaius looked thoughtful. "Well, my lord, I've known Arthur his entire life. And whenever he felt the pressures of his responsibilities weighing heavily upon his young shoulders, he would often get away from Camelot for a few hours to go hunting. I've even known him to stay away a day or more. It's become harder for him to have time to himself now that he is the King, and I believe it is very likely that is what he decided to do this morning, go hunting, and that Merlin was sworn to secrecy."

"So you feel no real harm has come to our young King then?" one of the Council members asked.

Gaius shook his gray head, his expression now deeply troubled. "No, to the contrary, my lords, I believe that if indeed Arthur had gone hunting, he and Merlin planned to return by the midday meal if not sooner, before everyone became as worried as we are now. Both are responsible young men and would know that a long unexplained absence by the King would cause concern. For that reason I now feel certain that something terrible must have befallen one or both of them, perhaps because of the snow storm."

* * *

**PART TWO:  
Torments and Dark Secrets**

*****WARNING: this section contains violence, some language, & M Rated adult content*****

In his delirium Merlin felt each stroke of the whip as it flayed Arthur's skin and the excruciating pain that accompanied each blow. In that strange psychic bond of empathy with his friend the young warlock writhed and moaned in agony until strong hands held him down and a warm liquid was poured down his throat to ease his tormented dreamlike visions.

As he lost the psychic contact with Arthur and faded into a deeper, drugged sleep he heard a young woman's voice say, "What is wrong with him, Father? I've healed him of the chest wound, yet he won't awaken and he seems caught up in some terrible nightmare."

"He keeps muttering the name of someone named Arthur. Perhaps it has something to do with what happened to that person and this young man," a deep older male voice replied. "I told you there were signs of several men in a fight or struggle, as well as blood stains in the snow. But why this unfortunate lad was left for dead while this Arthur, if he was the one wounded, was taken may be the key to his inability to awaken. You may have to join your mind to his when the potion we gave him wears off."

"Very well, Father," the girl replied, reaching down to feel Merlin's warm pale brow and smooth back tangles of his sweat-dampened dark hair.

* * *

The stinging leather lash kissed Arthur's bare flesh four…six …seven times, but still he did not cry out. The young king had been stripped of all of his clothing except for his brief linen underwear called braies, and he was hanging from wrist shackles in a dismal cell as Odin had ordered.

Sir Abersol noted the prisoner's tightly-clenched jaw muscles, and realized the young man did not want to give his torturer the satisfaction of hearing his suffering. The distinctive chiseled planes and hollows of Arthur's fine features were even more pronounced as he fought to stifle any sound of pain, and the knight secretly marveled that someone of such tender years could exercise that sort of iron control over himself. He also knew that the strain of the young man's hanging body weight upon his wrists, arms and shoulder muscles had to be nearly unbearable…yet still he remained silent.

But Abersol also had quickly observed that despite Arthur's striking looks and youth there was nothing cowardly, weak, effeminate, or soft about him, recalling how brazenly he had defied Odin, as well as fearlessly standing his ground when confronted by Abersol and his men.

The red-bearded knight had heard of the youth's reputation for being a courageous warrior and superb swordsman, and now he'd seen the proof of that for himself.

But every man had his breaking point, and it would amuse him to discover what Arthur Pendragon's was.

"You can't stay silent for long, your highness," he taunted in his graveled voice as he walked around Arthur's dangling form, lashing him again. "I'll soon have you begging me to stop."

Arthur knew that Abersol had sadistically made the lash cut across his wounded sword arm more than once in order to force sounds of anguish from him. "Go f**k yourself!" he grated through clenched teeth, valiantly hiding how much pain he was in as he stared unflinchingly into the bald man's cruel brown eyes.

Although Arthur was hoisted a few inches above the cell floor, Abersol, a man in his early 50s, was solidly built and almost six-and-a-half tall and, therefore, stood on an eye level with the suspended youth. With a smirk on his face he ceased the whipping to move closer to Arthur, saying matter-of-factly: "Aahhh, but I'd much rather f**k_ you_, my pretty peacock."

"You would not _dare_ touch me in that manner!" Arthur rasped, appalled and sickened by what the larger man had just implied. "Touch me like that and I swear I shall end you!"

Dismissing what he considered a meaningless threat since Arthur was fully at his mercy, Abersol chuckled and reached out to fondle a few soft strands of the young man's thick flaxen hair, smiling broadly when Arthur angrily tried to jerk his head away, causing his chains to rattle noisily.

Still smiling, the knight walked behind Arthur. He knew that if he touched the raw welts where the whip had marred the boy's exposed flesh it would cause him a great deal of discomfort. Purposely he slid his large calloused hand across the flayed areas on Arthur's arms, shoulders, and back. In reaction the young man cursed vehemently at him, pulling futilely at his shackles.

Grinning, Abersol came back around to stand before Arthur once more. Seeing the fury in those large cobalt blue eyes he chuckled again, thoroughly enjoying this power game of pain and subjugation for several reasons. The knight knew that his incensed captive likely would have tried to kick out at him, but Arthur's bare ankles were heavily manacled and chained to bolts in the cell's stone floor to prevent such a possibility from happening.

Staring into the boy's vivid and wary blue eyes, Abersol reached out to run his palm suggestively over the light matting of silky blond hair on Arthur's bare chest, ignoring his verbal outrage. He then dropped his gaze to fully appraise his captive's exposed body, feeling a stirring in his loins as he admired the glowing vitality and smoothness of the youth's fair skin and the toned, well-defined musculature of his physique developed from daily weapons training as a knight and prince. Arthur's shoulders and chest were relatively broad yet tapered to a tight, flat belly, narrow waist and hips, and muscled thighs and legs—the latter formed from years of horseback riding and tournament jousting.

Abersol had always kept his true sexual orientation a secret from not only his king, but his men, his wife, and his two grown sons. He did not live in a time when attraction to other males was widely accepted or condoned. But when necessary he would seek release in the type of brothels that offered both female and male companionship to its patrons. But nothing he'd ever encountered in such places could compare to the magnificent young man held captive before him. He'd never seen or met anyone quite like Arthur Pendragon, and for a moment he forgot his orders from Odin and allowed himself to indulge in his attraction to this splendid boy.

His tongue flickered out to wet his lips as he stared hungrily at Arthur's body, his pulse racing at the thought of possessing him fully before he was damaged further from the lashings ordered by Odin. He could take him now and no one would be the wiser. After all, it was only the two of them down here in this hellhole...and it would be simple enough to knock the boy unconscious and then unshackle and carry him to another secluded but cleaner cell to do to him whatever he wished before resuming the whippings.

"You really are quite a beautiful youth." the knight breathed in a huskier voice as desire began to build in him. "Such perfection should not go…unappreciated." His hand moved slowly over the contours of Arthur's lean rib cage, then across his taut stomach muscles. It then drifted downward to lightly finger the knotted drawstrings that held Arthur's thin braies securely in place—and he smiled to himself when beneath his unwelcome touch he felt the young man shudder.

Arthur's adverse physical reaction was one of revulsion and dread because he had read the evil intent in Abersol's words, heightened breathing, and darkened gaze as the larger man looked at and caressed him.

"It surprises me not that molestation and forced violation is the only way you can achieve satisfaction, you ugly, twisted and sadistic cur!" he exclaimed furiously.

His cutting words were like a bucket of icy water in the knight's face, and Abersol abruptly dropped his hand. It also suddenly occurred to him that since Odin wanted Camelot's young king kept alive for a little longer, if given the chance before he died the strong-minded youngster might not hesitate to tell Odin or anyone else that the knight had sexually assaulted him, which would in turn bring to light Abersol's dark secret.

The big man gave a cruel, harsh laugh as pure rage swept through him at Arthur's biting remarks and the frustrating realization that his lust for this compelling boy must now go unfulfilled.

Very well then, he thought maliciously: what he could not possess he would therefore...destroy.

His blazing gaze bore deep into Arthur's livid stare. "Oh, there are a number of other ways I can achieve satisfaction, your high-and-mightiness…as you are about to discover," he snarled—then stepped back from him again….and unleashed the whip full force.

* * *

After knocking lightly and hearing a soft female voice bid him enter, Lord Agravaine stepped into the ramshackle hovel hidden deep in the woodlands of Camelot. It was hardly a fitting place for a noble woman of such stunning beauty and unique gifts to be living in, he thought with distaste, and was more determined than ever to help Morgana Pendragon become Camelot's queen and ruler once Arthur was disposed of.

The young woman was sitting by the fire wrapped in a heavy knitted black shawl and warming herself when Agravaine entered. When she looked up at him he said, "I have good news to share, my lady. Arthur has been captured by King Odin. My spy did well in conveying to Odin's man the boy's plan to go hunting alone except for that annoying manservant of his he always insists on taking with him everywhere. But I understand that Merlin was killed when Arthur was captured, and I say good riddance to him as well."

She smiled up at him, and he could see she was vastly pleased with his news. "You have done well, Agravaine," she replied. "And being rid of Merlin is indeed an added blessing. He was forever creeping about. I never understood why Arthur tolerated him. Come, sit by the fire and warm yourself after your cold journey here."

Agravaine smiled broadly and moved to sit across from her. "Now that Arthur is in Odin's vengeful grasp, he is as good as dead, if he isn't already….and as the last Pendragon, my lady, nothing or no one can impede your ascension to the throne now."

She gave him a considering look. "Tell me, my lord, why are you so unfeeling about the death of the only child of your beloved sister? Arthur thinks so highly of you and perceives you as a confidant and father figure now that Uther is dead. I know you claim to have hated Uther ….yet you don't hate me, and I am a Pendragon as much as Arthur."

Agravaine glanced away from her to stare into the fire. He knew he could hardly confess to Morgana that he was desperately in love with her despite the fact he was nearly twice her age. Nor could he express his secret hope that she would eventually consent to marry him, out of gratitude if not love, for all he had been willing to do and sacrifice for her. Instead, he formed his answer carefully: "Every time I looked upon Arthur…into his face and those blue eyes…I saw Ygraine's incomparable golden beauty which was lost because of that brat's misbegotten birth. My sister was all that I had in this world until Uther murdered her in his obsessive desire to sire himself a son to carry on the Pendragon name and dynasty, knowing full well that you already existed. If he had only acknowledged you as his first born and heir to the throne, Arthur may not have been conceived in the way that he was, and my sister might still be alive to this day."

Morgana smiled to herself, but said nothing. She was well aware of Agravaine's feelings for her, which were not reciprocated in the least. If anything, she found him to be too old and rather physically repulsive. His dark hair was still thick and wavy, but his features were broad and somewhat coarse, and he looked dissipated from years of heavy drinking. In addition, his large, somewhat fleshy frame held no appeal for her either. His body looked soft...like his hands.

No, Agravaine had not been blessed with the legendary stunning beauty of his sister, although Arthur certainly had inherited it from his mother. Morgana privately speculated that Agravaine and Ygraine must have had different fathers but Agravaine never knew that his father had likely been cuckolded by Ygraine's true sire.

She glanced sideways at her accomplice, who had leaned forward in his chair to warm his fleshy hands over the fire, and she felt the distaste rising in her at the thought of those hands touching her. But the man had been willing to help her destroy Arthur, and so he might still prove politically useful in other ways before she killed him.

For a few moments she let her guard down and wished that he were someone else sharing her fire...someone beautiful and young and glowing—and that things could have been different.

She knew that Agravaine had no inkling that her heart had long ago been lost to another—someone she now knew she could never have…someone she'd loved since she was of the age when girls began to notice boys. It hadn't mattered that she was a little older than he was. But *he'd* never seen her in the same way…not even as they grew into young adults, where the minor age difference became even less obvious.

She never understood why he wasn't attracted to her beauty while his drew her like the moth to a flame. Most men became tongue-tied or groveled at her feet upon meeting her. Did he never wonder why she'd distained other suitors? Did he never see the passion and love for him that emanated from her every pore when she spoke to or looked upon him? Even when they bickered or he exasperated her by being annoying or arrogant she loved him because she also recognized that he was incredibly brave and noble and could be caring, compassionate, generous, and even kind. He just still had some growing up to do. And early on she'd seen the seeds of greatness in him, and it awed and thrilled her.

She'd done everything to capture his attention, earn his admiration, including learning to handle a sword as if she were born to it. Perfecting that skill also gave her additional opportunities to be with him and to have his full attention on her when they sparred for fun or practice. She knew he respected her skill, but he still did not perceive her as his perfect match and mate.

Morgana knew he'd never been aware of how often she watched him ride out, or waited for him to return. Or how often she covertly observed his training sessions with his knights, marveling at his focused skill and athletic prowess. His body was so magnificent, so perfectly formed, just like his beautiful face; and often she fantasized about his bare flesh against hers, their bodies entwined, his strong, well-defined hands caressing her all over while she kissed and savored his full, sensuous mouth. She'd even spied on him more than once while he bathed, memorizing every angle and aspect of his splendid body and fully revealed masculinity.

Morgana glanced over at Agravaine again, her stomach churning. How could this aging, bloated man possibly believe she would want him in her bed after she'd seen Arthur in the nude? She was a young and passionate woman and she wanted a handsome and virile young man as her lover. But not just any vigorous and attractive young man: she only wanted Arthur.

But he'd never guessed her secret longing for him, and had always treated her with sibling affection and rivalry even though neither of them had known the truth about who her real father was until recently. And that's when her secret passion for Arthur had become her secret shame…because her feelings for him had not changed despite the shocking knowledge that she was deeply in love with her own brother and had been for much of their lives.

And if that weren't awful enough, Morgana had discovered her brother's own ill-concealed love for Guinevere, a lowly servant who was the daughter of a blacksmith! The thought of Gwen usurping her place in Arthur's bed, usurping her rightful place on the throne beside him, had infuriated her and driven her to near-insanity until now she was ready to take her revenge on them both.

How ironic, she thought darkly, that for years she'd tried so hard to protect Arthur, safeguarding him when she'd had the warning dream-visions about the Questing Beast and other perils that lay in his path. But he'd never taken her or her warnings seriously and as a result had come close to death many times.

But now she _wanted_ him dead, his golden beauty destroyed and his vivid blue eyes closed forever. Only then, she told herself, could she ever be truly free of her obsessive love and unfulfilled desire for Arthur which even now still consumed her despite the heartbreaking knowledge that they were half brother and sister by blood—a terrible truth which had devastated her and destroyed any last hope she might have had of making Arthur hers and ruling at his side as his queen. If only she had really been Uther's ward and not his bastard daughter…then Arthur might still have been hers.

This was the real reason she hated Uther so much. His deceit, his cowardly secret about her parentage, was unforgivable because it had contributed to her unknowingly falling in love with her own brother early on, believing that some day she could win his love. But, of course, that would never be possible, now. So her ultimate revenge upon their father would be to take away the two things he valued the most when he'd been alive: his throne and the beloved son he'd sired to replace him on it someday.

It mattered not to Morgana that Arthur was innocent in all of this. She just knew that if he died her love and desire for him would have to die, too—and she'd finally be free of it and him.

Wouldn't she?

Unbidden, her brother's image began to form in her mind, and to distract herself, she said to Agravaine, trying to sound indifferent, "By the way. Did you dispose of the servant who told Odin's men how to find Arthur?"

He glanced over at her, openly admiring her delicate profile in the soft firelight. "Of course, my lady. And surely Odin will send word that the boy is indeed dead," he commented.

She gave him a sly smile. "So he has promised. I suspect he wants to see that Arthur suffers first for the death of his son before killing him." She shifted in her seat to look at him more intently. "Now that Arthur has been captured, you understand what you are to do to ensure that Odin's army breaches the citadel and takes the palace over?"

Agravaine nodded. "I will put the potion you gave me in the castle's water, wine and ale supplies at the appropriate moment. Then once I am assured of its effect on everyone, I will ride out and light the signal fires. As planned, there will be little or no resistance by anyone within the citadel to Odin's invasion." He paused, looking slightly worried. "Are you sure, Morgana, that you can trust him to turn over the palace to you after his men secure it? Camelot is a rich kingdom, coveted by many outside its borders."

Again she smiled craftily. "Odin will do as he has been instructed—raise his own banners over the castle walls so that the people of Camelot believe the Pendragon dynasty has fallen to a rival king. Then when I come with my own army and roust Odin's men from Camelot and reveal myself, the people will embrace me openly this time with gratitude for being their savior." She paused and smoothed back satiny strands of her ebony hair away from her delicate face. "Have no qualms, Agravaine. Odin fears my powers and knows better than to try and betray me. Besides, I have promised him the two things he desired more than anything in exchange for my rightful throne: the first, to deliver Arthur into his hands, which with your help I have now done. And secondly and just as importantly…raise Odin's son from the dead."

Seeing the expression on Agravaine's broad face she laughed wickedly. "I see that you find the idea….disturbing. So shall Odin, once he realizes that his beloved son is nothing more but a mere shadow, or shade, of his former self and little else. But by then I shall be securely seated upon the throne of Camelot and a force to be reckoned with by one and all."

* * *

Merlin stood watching in mute horror as the red-bearded man beat Arthur, whose raw and bleeding wrists were shackled to slime-coated chains affixed to rusted ceiling rungs. His friend was suspended just a few inches from the damp floor of his cell, and his tormenter walked slowly around him, striking him with a long thin cane this time rather than a whip. Wherever the reed struck Arthur's naked torso or bare legs it left bloodied welts and ugly mottled bruising. Abersol had been at him off and on for two days now, and Arthur was no longer able to suppress low moans of agony from the relentless beatings.

"STOP! OH, PLEASE, STOP HURTING HIM!" Merlin shouted furiously at the man even though he knew full well that Arthur's abuser could not actually hear him. But Arthur suddenly raised his head and looked around blindly, crying out, "_Merlin?!_" before his body spasmed and then abruptly went lax as he fell into unconsciousness.

Muttering an oath, Sir Abersol ceased his thrashing of the young king. Wondering why the youth had called out the name of a type of small falcon, the merlin, before passing out, he moved closer to him and reached out to tightly grab a fistful of Arthur's blond hair, jerking his head up to more closely scrutinize his battered face. Arthur's nose and mouth were bleeding, and both eyes had been blackened and were nearly swollen shut. The sculpted planes of his handsome face were now hidden beneath puffed and mottled flesh.

"No longer so pretty. And not so defiant and tough after all, either. Fainted quicker this time, you arrogant little sh*t," he muttered aloud before letting go of Arthur's hair. He gazed for a long moment at the unconscious boy, debating whether or not to try and revive him once more to resume the beating. Then deciding it was likely pointless for the moment, he tossed the bloodied rod in his hand down onto the clammy, dirty stone floor and left the cell.

"Is that your friend, the one who was with you in the forest when you were attacked?" a soft female voice asked, and startled, Merlin turned his head to see a pretty young girl about his own age standing a few feet away, looking at him sadly. She was dressed in a simple blue frock and had dark russet hair woven into a thick braid that hung to her slim waist; and when their gazes met he saw that she had the most brilliant emerald green eyes he'd ever seen.

"Who…who are you?" Merlin stammered, shocked by her sudden presence and his awareness that she was there in ethereal form just as he was.

The girl looked from him to Arthur. "My name is Alice. My father and I found you badly wounded in the woods, and brought you to our cottage. You have been dream-visioning and calling out a name…Arthur. Is that he?"

Trying to make sense of what she was saying and how she could possibly be there with him since this was all in his mind, he nodded. "Yes, I must find a way to rescue him."

"He looks so young. Why is he being tortured? What could he possibly have done to warrant such cruel treatment by King Odin?"

"Odin falsely believes Arthur murdered his son. That is untrue. It was a fair fight, yet one Arthur did not want. Why are you here as well, in my dream-vision? And how is that possible?"

The girl smiled faintly. "I mind-joined with you to discover why you would not awaken, even though my spells had healed you fully from the arrow wound. Now I understand why."

"Magic? You possess…magic!" Merlin exclaimed—and with that he woke up.

* * *

Merlin opened his eyes to see the girl named Alice hovering over him anxiously. "You…you are real!" he exclaimed with shock, staring up at her.

She smiled a little shyly and nodded. "Aye, you didn't dream or imagine me in that cell."

Remembering Arthur's awful plight, panic surged through Merlin and he struggled to sit up; but an agonizing wave of pain mixed with dizziness overcame him, and he put both hands to his temples and groaned, "Owwww, my head!"

"I'm sorry…the mind-joining does that," Alice apologized, touching his shoulder. "But just lie still a moment and the vertigo and headache will lessen."

Just then a pleasant-faced, tall and muscular man in his late 40s with short cropped russet hair the color of Alice's entered the room, carrying a ceramic brown mug in his hand. He went over to the bedside and held the cup out to Merlin. "Good to see you finally awake, lad. I am Godwin Byrne, Alice's father," he said in a deep voice. "Here, drink all of this down… it will help with the head pain."

The young warlock rose up on one elbow and took the mug, hesitating only a moment before draining it. If these people wanted to harm or poison him, they'd have already done so, he decided with a mental shrug. The drink was cool and had a pleasant minty taste to it. "Thank you," he murmured, handing the empty cup back to Godwin. Almost immediately he could feel the pounding headache and dizziness lessening. "My name is Merlin," he told them.

He glanced around at his surroundings. From the look of the timber and thatching overhead, rough stone walls, and the ventilation hole in the roof he guessed he was in a cottage. This chamber was small and sparsely furnished with little else in it except the narrow wooden bed upon which he lay and the short oak stool Alice was sitting upon next to the bedside. There was one window, shuttered tight against the cold wind outside, and a small stone fire pit glowing with heat from red hot coals.

Looking down at himself, he saw that the place where the arrow bolt had entered his chest was fully healed, with only a faint scar to show where it had struck him. "Uh, where are my clothes?" he asked, flushing as he suddenly realized he was nude beneath the soft woven blanket draped over his body. "I have to get dressed. I must rescue my friend before they kill him."

The older man placed his hands firmly on the young warlock's shoulders, forcing him back onto the pillow. "You're too weakened yet to be going anywhere, lad," he said firmly but kindly.

Merlin stared up at him anxiously. "But you don't understand! I have to rescue Arthur from King Odin." His frantic blue-eyed gaze fell upon Alice again. "Tell him! You were there! You saw what they were doing to him!"

The girl nodded in sympathy, glancing from a distraught Merlin to Godwin. "It's true, Father, his friend was being brutally beaten and tortured."

Her father rubbed thoughtfully at his chin. "Odin is reputed to be a cruel man." He gave Merlin a considering look. "After you've rested another day, I suppose we can show you the way to his stronghold."

"No! No! Please! You must help me get to Arthur tonight! Perhaps…perhaps even help me rescue him!" Merlin begged them. "Alice's healing magic can help save him if we can get there in time!"

Godwin frowned down at him. "Then tell me what befell you and your friend out there in the forest and why he was taken by Odin's men while you were left for dead."

"It's because King Odin sent them after my master for a crime he did not commit."

"Master?" Alice said, looking confused. "I thought you said Arthur is your friend."

Merlin's expressive blue eyes swiveled to meet hers. "Yes, he is that. But he is so much more as well. Don't you understand? Odin has captured and is torturing Camelot's new king!"

Both the girl and her father gave a start.

"Laddie, are you saying that this *Arthur* you keep mentioning is…_Arthur_ _Pendrago_n, Uther's young son?" Godwin said, staring at him in astonishment.

"Yes!" Merlin exclaimed, searching their stunned faces anxiously. "And now you see why I must get dressed and find a way to save Arthur before Odin kills him."

Godwin turned away from the bedside, shaking his head vigorously. "I'm sorry, lad, but my daughter and I shall do nothing to help rescue Uther Pendragon's son, even if he is the new king." And with that he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

* * *

With grim satisfaction Odin stood looking at Arthur's bloody and brutally savaged form, relishing in how much physical pain the young man had suffered from the past few days' repeated lashings and canings.

"Discontinue the beatings for the time being, but don't take him down," he told Abersol, who stood a little behind him in the shadows of the poorly lit cell, bloodied whip in hand. He'd just lashed Arthur senseless again when the king arrived to inspect his captive.

Odin continued: "Perhaps you've been a trifle overzealous, my friend. The little bastard looks near to death and I want him kept alive just a bit longer. Give him some water if you must, but no food."

"As you wish, Sire," the red-bearded knight replied, following the king from Arthur's prison cell.

* * *

Merlin stared at Alice in dismay. "Why did your father say he refused to help rescue Arthur when he found out who he is? Arthur has done nothing to harm him!"

The girl lowered her gaze. "Nay, not the son, that is true. But the father…Uther…had my mother, Elsbeth, executed during the Great Purge, and my father has hated the Pendragons ever since."

Merlin struggled to sit up again. "Alice, you must listen to me and understand the truth of this: Arthur is not like his father. He is a good and just man, true-hearted and beloved by his knights and the people who know him. But more than that, it has been foretold that Arthur is destined to unite all of Albion under a banner of peace and prosperity, as well as become the greatest king this land shall ever know. But that great destiny won't be fulfilled….Camelot itself will not survive… if Odin succeeds in killing him."

"He must be very special indeed to inspire such fierce loyalty and devotion in you," Alice replied, studying him.

Merlin nodded. "Yes, I've come to appreciate who he is and what he stands for," he replied, refraining from mentioning that he and Arthur had initially gotten off on the wrong foot when they'd first met. "I'd give my life for him…as would every one of his knights…and he'd do the same for me and them…or anyone he cares about, including the people of Camelot. I can't tell you how many times he has been willing to sacrifice himself to save others, however high or low born."

Alice suddenly said, "I know what you are, Merlin...that you have a gift for magic as well."

He blinked at her, stunned. "How did you know?"

She smiled. "I felt you desperately trying to use it to protect Arthur when you were attacked by Odin's men. It is how my father and I were able to find you in time. It is also how you are able to connect with Arthur in your dream-visioning."

He said nothing to that.

She continued: "What I don't understand is why Uther allowed you near his son and never had you executed knowing that you can wield magic. How can that be when all use of magic has been outlawed upon penalty of death for over two decades?"

Merlin looked away. "That's because Uther never actually knew I could do magic, you see. And…ummm, Arthur is unaware of it as well…despite how many times I've needed to use it to save his royal backside."

Alice looked astounded. "Merlin, what are you saying? That you secretly have been protecting Arthur Pendragon since you've known him?"

The young warlock gave a rueful laugh. "Yeah, that's pretty much it."

Her intelligent emerald gaze scrutinized his face. "Are you afraid for Arthur to know of your ability because he would condemn you just as his father would have? I thought you two were close friends. And it's apparent you and he are strangely bonded by the fact you can psychically connect with one another. I saw for myself that Arthur somehow sensed you were in that cell, Merlin. He called out your name!"

"It's not that simple, Alice," he replied defensively. "I firmly believe that given time, Arthur will restore the use of magic to our kingdom…providing that it is used in a positive way. But he has lived in Uther's shadow his entire life. And, frankly, he has personally seen and experienced how magic can be used for terrible evil…has almost lost his life more than once because of tit.…so he is wary and distrustful of any form of magic. But someday…I shall tell him about me, and I know he will accept me for who I truly am."

"I think I understand now," she nodded. "What can I do to help you rescue him?"

Merlin's face lit up with hope. "Alice, you must convince your father to change his mind about helping me rescue Arthur. And in return I promise to use all my influence in the future to convince him to lift the ban on magic so that special people like us can practice their unique gifts under the protection of Camelot's new and more tolerant laws."

She reached out and took his hand in hers. "I'll do what I can," she promised.

* * *

Now fully dressed, Merlin was sitting on the edge of the bed when Alice re-entered the room.

"Please tell me that you were able to convince your father too help us!" he said hopefully as he carefully got to his feet. He still felt weak, but at least the vertigo and throbbing headache were gone.

She nodded. "Aye, but he is only doing it because of what you said about your belief that you will convince Arthur to raise the ban on magic in the future. Father worries continually about my safety should it becomes widely known I sometimes use spells to aid in healing. But although he has agreed to help us, he still has his doubts about what sort of man and king Arthur will prove to be."

"When he gets to know him, your father will see that what I've said about Arthur's character and integrity are true."

"I believe you, Merlin," she smiled, then held up her hand. In its palm lay a pyramid-shaped stone about the size of a large apple. Its color was a deep jade green with an iridescent sheen. Resting upon its top was a tiny ball-shaped crystal of deep green as well.

"What is that?" he asked, studying the object with curiosity.

"It's a shielding stone," she replied. "It's one of the few magical items my mother was able to hide before Uther's men came for her."

"What does it do?" he asked.

"Just as its name implies…shield whoever carries it, and anyone else within its narrow range, from the view of others."

"Why didn't your mother use it to hide herself from Uther's men?" Merlin asked gently.

"Because his emissaries had taken my father and I hostage, threatening to execute us in her place if she didn't turn herself over to them. She sacrificed herself to save us."

"I see," he murmured.

"Here, hold it…you'll be able to feel its power," she said, offering it to him.

Merlin accepted the stone, examining it as he balanced it on his palm. Alice was right….he could feel a sort of underlying energy field as he held the small pyramidal-shaped object. Fully intrigued he asked, "How does it work?"

She took it back from him, placing it on the palm of her hand again. "Like this," and murmured a simple incantation. And then right before Merlin's astonished gaze she suddenly vanished.

"Alice?" he asked tentatively, looking around the room. "Are you still actually here?"

Behind him he heard a slight movement, and then felt the back of his hair being ruffled. Whirling, he saw no one there, but heard her soft giggle. "That's truly amazing!" he laughed, and the girl suddenly appeared again, standing mere inches from him.

For a long moment they stared into each other's eyes, and then dropping her gaze Alice moved away from him, saying, "Using this is how we shall find and rescue the King."

* * *

**PART THREE:  
The Rescue**

It was after midnight and Abersol had returned to Arthur's cell to check on him. The youth had not regained consciousness since the last whipping, and the knight was secretly worried he'd taken the beatings too far, that Arthur would die before Camelot fell to Odin's men.

When he entered the dark, silent cell the torch in his hand illuminated its dismal interior and Arthur's limp body suspended from the wrist shackles.

Abersol set the torch in a holder on one wall and carried a flask of water over to his captive, tilting his head fully back in order to dribble some of its cool contents slowly down his throat. At first Arthur did not respond, then he suddenly choked and coughed and began to come around.

Almost immediately he started mumbling in delirium, seemingly unaware of his surroundings or who was with him. Among the disjointed phrases Abersol caught the name *Guinevere.* He had heard him say that name before, and guessed that this woman was special to the young man.

"Guinevere is lost to you, boy, just as Camelot is," he told him heartlessly.

If Arthur heard or understood him, he made no further response.

The knight gave him more of the water and then re-corked the flask. At least the youth had taken some of the liquid and finally awoken, he thought with some relief, and turned away. Picking up the torch again he left the dismal cell and a semi-conscious Arthur in pitch darkness once more—and thus did not see the bloody water that Arthur vomited up.

* * *

With Alice holding the shielding stone, she, Merlin, and Godwin cautiously entered Odin's vast stronghold, silently and invisibly moving past the guards on duty. As long as they stayed close behind her, Merlin and Godwin would also not be detected. Alice had explained to Merlin that the shielding stone had another wonderful facet of magic: its crystal capstone could lead the person holding the magic artifact to whatever destination that person wished. The crystal turned a bright red when the correct direction was taken; otherwise it would return to its deep green color.

Thus following the stone's course as it rested on the palm of the girl's right hand, the trio found the correct passageways which would take them into the lower dungeons of Odin's castle.

Fewer guards were stationed down here, and those that they did come across were either playing cards to while away the late night hours or dozing at their stations. It was apparent that they had little concern that the few prisoners kept in the bowels of the Keep, including Arthur, would be able to escape.

Huddled close together as they progressed into the worst, most dank part of the holding block, the three rescuers located Arthur's cell. Fortunately no guards were stationed here, but as they expected, the rusted iron door was bolted; but Merlin was prepared for that. He raised his right hand and circled it slowly above the lock, murmuring a low incantation as he did so, and the bolt silently unlatched and slid back.

Together they entered the darkened cell, and with another whisper of sound Merlin materialized a glowing ball of hovering light that illuminated the small chamber. Just as he had seen in his dream-visioning, Arthur's body was suspended from rusted wrist shackles overhead, and he'd been stripped of all of his clothing except for his narrow linen braies. His eyes were closed and his head was arched fully back, showing the corded muscles in his throat and neck. But they could hear him muttering incoherently, apparently unaware of the sudden brightness of the room or of their presence.

Merlin, Alice, and Godwin exchanged anxious glances, then the young warlock and Godwin moved to Arthur's side while Alice remained by the doorway to stand watch.

Even though he knew Arthur was in terrible shape, Merlin's heart lurched in his chest and his blue eyes grew moist when he looked upon his friend. Arthur's normally shining golden hair was matted and dulled with sweat and blood. His finely-chiseled features were barely recognizable as his face was so badly swollen and marred with dark bruising, and there was a gash under his right eye which still looked raw. The deep blade cut on his sword arm from the day of the attack had never been treated and was festering with infection. But it was his body which had been the most brutalized by the merciless lashings and canings he'd been given by Abersol. Arthur's ivory flesh had been so badly flogged that there was almost no untouched surface of bare skin. Even his braies were darkened with both dried and fresh blood as a result of the vicious whippings given his lower body as well.

Standing this close to him, Merlin could also see the wide patch of blue-black bruising and abnormal swelling along the young king's left rib cage and feel the fever heat radiating off of his body. Arthur's breathing was ragged, and Merlin realized he must have congested lungs….perhaps even a punctured lung as well.

Even Godwin was shocked and sickened by Arthur's condition. Despite his feelings about Uther Pendragon, he'd never have wished such vicious cruelty visited upon his son. "Poor, poor lad," he mumbled.

Blinking back hot tears of despair and rage, Merlin swallowed hard and whispered, "Arthur?" and then gently touched the other youth. "It's me…Merlin…can you hear me, Sire? They won't hurt you anymore. Friends and I have come to rescue you."

At first there was no response as Arthur's disjointed mutterings continued, and then with difficulty he slowly lifted his head and opened his eyes as much as the swelling around them would allow. In the glow cast by the floating light orb, Merlin saw disbelief and joy appear on his battered face when he registered that Merlin was indeed there and very much alive. Then a glint of amusement flashed in the cobalt blue depths of his fevered eyes. "_Merlin_," he whispered hoarsely, "_Where on_ _earth have you been?_"

Merlin made a sound that was part sob and part laugh, tearfully smiling at Arthur's valiant attempt at humor, despite these dire circumstances, by uttering the familiar catch-phrase he knew the other youth had heard often enough since they'd come to know each other.

"My apologies, Sire, but I came as quickly as I was able given that I had an arrow bolt embedded in my chest," he tried to quip back.

"_Always an excuse with you, Merlin_," Arthur rejoined weakly, trying to continue their familiar banter; then he gave a wracking cough and spit up dark, clotted blood.

Alarmed, Merlin urged, "Don't try to talk any more, Sire. We're going to get you down now."

But Arthur held the other youth's tearful gaze and said in a voice now so low that the young warlock could barely understand him: "_Somehow I always knew…you had_ _survived…and that…you would come for me. Thank you, Merlin… for always being my one true friend_." He paused, struggling to find his breath, then added, "_If…if possible…bury me at Camelot…next to my parents. And tell Guinevere how much I…loved…_" He wasn't able to finish. His eyes lost their focus and the thickly-lashed eyelids fluttered shut, his head falling forward as he slipped into a welcome, pain-free oblivion.

Profoundly touched by all that Arthur had said, and heartsick to the core of his being, Merlin felt the tears begin to sluice down his cheeks. It was apparent that Arthur was not just grievously injured and ill….but dying, and he knew it.

"We must go now," Godwin said quietly, also deeply affected by their exchange.

"I know," Merlin replied in a choked voice, swiping at his wet cheeks. "But besides his other injuries, his lungs are congested, and he has broken ribs. He's also riddled with fever and infection. He wouldn't be able to walk even if he were conscious."

"Aye, he'll have to be carried," Godwin agreed. "I'll take him once we get him down. You've barely regained your own strength and, besides, if we run into any trouble, you'll need your hands free to be able to use your magic." He removed his long, fur-lined cloak and wrapped it around Arthur's ravaged frame, knowing the warmth from it would be soothing to the traumatized boy and shield him from the cold wind when they left the Keep.

"Go ahead," he said, nodding at Merlin, and the young warlock raised his hand and muttered the spells needed to free Arthur's manacled ankles. As the iron bands snapped open and fell to the stone floor with a dull clang Godwin slipped a strong arm behind Arthur's knees and lifted his legs to ease the weight off of his badly strained arms and shoulders.

Merlin repeated the spell, directing it at his friend's manacled right wrist. The rusted chains rattled, and then the iron band popped open, freeing that arm to fall limply downward by Arthur's side.

The warlock repeated the process with the left wrist, and as Arthur's other arm fell free Godwin caught all of his dead weight, carefully cradling the unconscious youth in his strong arms.

They moved to join Alice who had been glancing anxiously over her shoulder at them as she kept watch by the doorway.

"He's in a bad way, Alice," Merlin said to her. "I don't think he can last long enough to reach your cottage. Is there anything you can do for him now?"

The girl looked sorrowfully at the dying young man draped in her father's arms.

"It will soon be dawn and we must be well away from this place. As it is we've lingered too long, and if I can heal him, that will take time. But at least I can give him some ease now," she whispered, moving to stand close to Arthur. She reached out and touched his fevered forehead and murmured unfamiliar words which, to Merlin, sounded like another language. When finished, she shared a worried glance with her father, then turned away and said, "Come! We must leave now."

"What did you do to him?" Merlin asked anxiously, seeing that Arthur had gone unnaturally still and that his rattling breaths had ceased.

"I've put him into a deeper sleep to ensure he won't suddenly awaken and make a sound that might give us away to the guards. And I cast a temporary healing spell to stabilize and quiet his breathing as well," she explained.

"Thank you," Merlin murmured with relief, and as they left the cell he whispered, "Wait," and paused at the threshold to extinguish the floating light orb. But before he did so, with glowing eyes he murmured another enchantment, leaving a little surprise behind for Sir Abersol and King Odin.

With a sardonic smile he turned away, sealed the cell door again as if it had never been opened, then joined the others.

With added caution they retraced their steps through the dungeons and castle corridors, finally emerging free of the bleak structure into the inky darkness of the night. Hurriedly they headed toward the woodlands where they'd hidden the horses and wagon.

Merlin climbed in back, and with Godwin's help carefully settled Arthur onto his lap and against his chest, trying to keep his friend in a position that would help ease his breathing and relieve pressure on his broken ribs.

Alice and her father then covered the young king with heavy blankets they'd brought along, while Merlin's added body heat would help to warm Arthur.

Dawn was just breaking across the night sky as Godwin and Alice climbed into the front seat of the cart and started for home.

* * *

"You sent for me, Sire?" Sir Abersol inquired sleepily, entering the large throne room and heading toward the dais where Odin sat reading a scroll in his hand. The knight had been roused from his bed by a servant bearing a message that the king required his presence immediately, and thus he'd not even had a chance to break his fast.

Odin gave him a cursory glance, and resumed scanning the unfurled parchment in his hands, a satisfied grin spreading across his hard features. "Camelot has fallen to my army!" he exclaimed jubilantly. "I just received this missive from one of my commanders. "

Abersol smiled broadly, now fully awake. "Such excellent news, Sire! And what of the citadel itself?"

Now Odin looked at him more fully. "Breached, thanks to my agent within. My men are in complete control there now. The Pendragon banners have been taken down and replaced with mine!"

"Congratulations, Sire! A momentous victory! And what now of Arthur Pendragon? Shall I finish him off?" the knight asked.

Odin rolled up the scroll and set it aside, then stood. "No, my friend, that's one task I personally shall enjoy performing myself," he replied, stepping down from the dais. "I want to watch the life drain from the little bastard's eyes when I slit his throat….after I tell him his kingdom and throne are now mine."

* * *

When Odin and Abersol stepped into Arthur's cell they could see his shadowed form hanging from the wrist chains. There was no sound coming from the prisoner, and the king looked at his knight questioningly.

"You haven't already killed him?!" Odin demanded.

"Nay, Sire!" the other man hastened to assure him. "He was alive when I left him late last night. He even drank some of the water I gave him. He must merely be unconscious."

The two men walked over to stand in front of Arthur's suspended form, which seemed unnaturally still. The youth's blond head hung down, and he did not seem to be breathing.

"Something is not right here," Odin muttered, and tentatively reached out a hand to touch his captive…but his hand went right through Arthur's body. "What witchery is this?!" he exclaimed in shock, turning to stare at Abersol.

Equally unnerved, the knight moved closer to Arthur and also tried to touch him…and his own hand merely passed straight through the young man's body.

Suddenly there was a strange sound, almost a crackling hiss, and ever so slowly Arthur's form began to dissolve right before the astonished stares of the two men, the ankle shackles falling noisily to the stone floor while the overhead now-empty wrist shackles swayed on their chains.

* * *

**PART FOUR:  
An Unexpected Romance**

Merlin came into the small bedroom to check on Arthur, and stopped in the doorway, watching Alice as she tended to him. The girl had worked tirelessly over him for the past two days as she tried to heal his injuries, seldom leaving the bedside.

Merlin could see that her remarkable healing gifts had mended Arthur to where almost all evidence of the terrible damage done to his face and body were gone, and he looked much like himself once more. Yet his coloring was still too pale, and he had not regained that indefinable vibrant glow which had always emanated from him, adding to his charisma. But Arthur was still very ill, Merlin knew. Earlier Alice had confided that she was worried about his internal injuries, which had been so severe and extensive and, therefore, harder for her to heal.

Looking up, the girl smiled over at Merlin when she realized he was there. She was wearing her long auburn hair loosened but pulled back and fastened with a simple clip at the nape of her neck. Her form-fitting garment was a shade of green which matched her remarkable eyes, he noted with admiration.

"When will he finally awaken?" he asked anxiously. Arthur had been in a coma-like state since they'd rescued him from the cell.

"Not for some time yet," she replied, tucking the covers more tightly over the king. "As you can see, he's vastly improved, but the spells are still trying to heal his internal injuries and broken bones." She felt Arthur's brow. "The fever is still there, though, which troubles me…but at least the swelling and abrasions on his body and face are mostly gone." Looking down at her patient she commented, "I'd heard he was very pleasing to look upon. He truly is that."

"Most people seem to think so," Merlin replied, adding with a crooked grin, "But I work hard at helping him stay humble about his looks, among other things. He's been given everything since birth, so it helps to keep him grounded in reality. He calls them my *surly comments*, but he actually enjoys them, even when I tell him he's behaving like a prat or that he's getting a little soft around the middle. Oddly enough, it's one reason we get on so well."

He'd told her all this in order to hide the unexpected sharp pang of jealousy he'd felt at her remarks about Arthur's striking good looks. Jealousy was truly something he'd never felt about Arthur's undeniable physical appeal until that moment. He had long recognized that beneath the surface beauty of his friend's face, as well as his sometimes arrogant or demanding demeanor, was a man of deep integrity and feeling who truly was not vainglorious about himself. If anything, Merlin had seen that Arthur often found his golden looks to be something of a drawback and nuisance at times because they drew so much attention to him wherever he went, thus making him so recognizable. It was also hard for him to slip unnoticed among a crowd, or enter a tavern incognito just to relax and enjoy an ale or tankard of mead like anyone else. Sometimes covering his bright blond hair helped, but not always since his unmistakable large blue eyes, aristocratic features, confident body language, and cultured voice could still give him away.

Arthur had even once confided to Merlin that because of how he looked he always felt he had to prove himself—prove his manhood and masculinity, really—as he was growing up in order to gain the respect of not only his father but that of other hardened knights and warriors as well.

But at that moment, something was different for Merlin when he'd heard Alice take note of Arthur's looks. He realized he had never before experienced a jealous reaction to a woman's admiration for Arthur, and often found it amusing, in fact, because women usually got so silly and giddy in his presence; but this time was different. And yet he also felt ashamed of his jealousy, given how brutalized Arthur had been as Odin's captive.

Alice had straightened up and moved away from the young king's bedside to join Merlin by the doorway. She had sensed his chagrin at her comment despite his effort to cover his reaction, and staring up into his face and soulful blue eyes she reached up and tenderly laid her hand against his right cheek.

"Arthur may have the face of a young god, but yours, Merlin, with its expressive eyes, kindly features, and dazzling smile is the sweetly handsome face my gaze falls the most favorably upon."

He was stunned by her words, her touch, the look in her emerald eyes, and how close she was standing to him. He could smell the rose-scented water she used when she bathed, and his breath caught in his throat as he stared down into her mesmerizing gaze. And then he lowered his dark head and kissed her, thrilling to the taste of her soft mouth and her arms sliding up to wrap around his neck to pull him closer.

When the kiss ended, Alice took his hand in hers and began to lead him toward her bedroom.

"What…what of Arthur? What of your father?" he asked, flushing a little as he realized her intent, his heart pounding.

"Arthur will not awaken, as I told you, and has no need of me at this moment. And my father has gone into the village for supplies. He won't return for hours yet as he will most certainly go to the tavern to sit with friends and down an ale or two as he catches up on the latest news."

With that she pulled him into her chamber…and softly shut the door.

* * *

By the time Godwin returned from the village, Alice and Merlin were innocently keeping watch by Arthur's bedside.

The girl's father stood in the doorway, looking grim-faced, and for a moment Merlin guiltily wondered if the older man somehow knew that he had lain with his daughter. It did not help to dispel that concern when Godwin said in a low, tight voice, "Come into the outer room, both of you."

Not daring to look at Alice, Merlin got up and followed her from Arthur's sick room, closing the door quietly behind him. If he was about to be murdered by Godwin, he didn't want the noise to disturb his friend.

"What's wrong, Father? Has something happened?" Alice asked. Unlike Merlin, she knew that her father's agitation had nothing to do with her and the young warlock.

Godwin motioned them toward seats by the fire and sat in his own favorite chair to face them.

"Aye, I bring terrible news, Daughter! Camelot has fallen to Odin's men. The Wolf Head's banners now fly over the castle walls."

"What?!" Merlin exclaimed. "That's not possible!"

Godwin gave him a doleful look. "Aye, laddie, but it is. It happened two days ago."

"That's when we rescued Arthur," Alice noted, staring at Merlin.

"But….what of Arthur's knights…his soldiers? I know them all. They would have defended the citadel, at least, and held it, even without Arthur there."

Godwin shook his head. "I know not the answers to that. But in the tavern and village there is talk that massive executions have been taking place of all those found within the castle walls, whether they be Council members, knights, guards, or servants."

(Even Gaius and Gwen?) Merlin thought with sudden panic. He jumped up. "I must go to Camelot to see what is happening for myself. Arthur shall need to know when he awakens!" he exclaimed.

"Lad, going to Camelot could prove dangerous." Godwin counseled. "Odin's men are also on the hunt for Arthur or anyone who might know of his whereabouts right now. You are known to be his manservant…and if you are recognized…"

Merlin interrupted him. "Now that I'm warned, I can take care of myself. But are you and Alice in danger keeping Arthur here?" he asked worriedly.

The older man shook his head. "It's unlikely we would be suspected."

"And Arthur is still far too ill to be moved, anyway," Alice interjected. "We will keep him safe, I promise you."

"I know you will," Merlin said. "And I'll return as quickly as I can. In the meantime, if Arthur awakens, do not tell him any of this. And if he asks for me…mmm, tell him I'm down at the village tavern," he added wryly.

* * *

Having packed the few things he would need to take with him, Merlin prepared to leave the cottage. Godwin had gone to saddle Ginny, his fastest horse, for the young man to use on his perilous journey.

Before going, Merlin took a few moments to say goodbye to Arthur, even though his friend was still in the coma and would not know he was there. He knelt by the young king's bedside, hoping that somehow Arthur would be able to understand what he had to say.

"Sire, I have something I need to go do, but I promise I shall return soon. I would not leave your side if it weren't important, but you will be well looked after while I'm gone. And once you are fully recovered, together we shall find a way to set things to rights, I swear." He then reached out to gently smooth back errant strands of Arthur's flaxen hair away from his closed face, then stood and left the room.

Alice met him at the front doorway and handed him a small bundle, saying, "Take this. Use it if you must to enter the palace to learn of the fate of your friends."

He understood. "Thank you, Alice…for this…for Arthur…and everything," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her goodbye.

Clinging to him for a moment she whispered, "Come back to me."

"Never fear…I shall," he promised.

* * *

**PART FIVE:  
A Fallen King and Kingdom**

"What news of Arthur Pendragon or those who must be hiding him. He could not possibly have left that cell on his own," King Odin demanded of Abersol and a half dozen of his other knights. "And we know that magic was involved."

"Our men are searching everywhere, here in our own kingdom and throughout all of Camelot," Abersol replied stiffly, seeing the rage building in his king at his unsatisfactory answer. "But there's not even a whisper of where he might be hidden so far."

"Sire, the young Pendragon king is much beloved by his people. I believe that they would rather die themselves than betray where he is," another of Odin's knights dared to venture.

"I care not what it takes, but I want that damnable boy found and disposed of once and for all!" the king shouted, slamming his fist on the arm of his throne chair. "Or I swear that your own heads will be forfeit for his!"

Just then a servant approached, and at Odin's curt nod, moved to the king's side and whispered something in his ear.

"Bid them enter," Odin replied, and as the servant bowed and hurried off, he said to Abersol and the other men, "Leave me now. And don't return until you have found Pendragon!"

His knights all nodded and bowed respectfully, and then turned to leave the audience chamber, passing Morgana and Agravaine as they entered. Every man's eyes fell appreciably upon the beautiful raven-haired woman dressed in dark purple as she passed them, but she appeared not to notice.

As Agravaine and Morgana neared the dais where Odin sat awaiting them, she said silkily, "Greetings, your Highness. So, I understand you have somehow…misplaced…my brother."

Odin's face actually darkened with embarrassment at her words and chilling look. He feared no man alive, but he secretly feared this strange and powerful young woman.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat he replied stiffly, "The boy's escape was aided by someone using powerful magic."

Morgana and Agravaine exchanged glances. "How so," she replied sharply, her crystal blue eyes narrowing.

"When one of my knights and I entered your brother's cell, he appeared to be there, unconscious and still in his chains. But when I went to touch him, sensing something was amiss, my hand passed through his body. And within moments his form…simply dissolved."

Morgana frowned. "Only a very powerful wizard could conceive such an illusion."

"There was, er, something else awaiting us in the cell, my lady," Odin said.

"What do you mean?"

The King cleared his throat, feeling a chill as she stared at him like that. "When the image of your brother disappeared, in its place there appeared a word floating in the air for the briefest moment."

"What word, my lord?" Agravaine asked, speaking for the first time.

"I did not understand its meaning," Odin answered. "It simply spelled…_.Emrys_."

* * *

It was dark when Merlin reached the city walls of Camelot, and hiding in the shadows he took out the bundle Alice had given him and unfolded it to reveal the shielding stone. Murmuring the incantation over it she'd taught him, he held it in his palm and entered the great complex without being detected by the sentries on duty. It both grieved and infuriated him to see the guards wearing Odin's colors and not Arthur's.

With cautious steps he continued on until he reached the palace and entered through a more obscure entrance of which he was aware.

Stealthily he made his way toward the area where he and Gaius lived. He stopped at the doorway, or where the oak door had once been. Now it was just a darkened hole that led into a silent chamber.

No one was about, and Merlin took the chance to create a light orb similar to the one he'd made in Arthur's cell. And what he saw in the suddenly-illuminated area made his heart sink.

The large room was in shambles. Gaius's potions and books and belongings were strewn everywhere, and Merlin had no doubt his own small room off of this one looked much the same.

He had not really expected to find the old physician here, but as he stared in dismay at the reality of his surroundings, he knew that something dreadful had happened to his elderly mentor.

He extinguished the light orb and quickly made his way back out of the castle and toward the area of town where Gwen's home was. Perhaps she was there, unharmed, and could tell him what happened to Gaius as well as Elyon, Leon, Gwaine, and the other knights.

But that hope was dashed as well when he saw the state of Gwen's small abode. It was in shambles just as Gaius's chamber had been, with no sign of the girl anywhere.

Panic began to rise in Merlin's breast. Trying to quell his worst fears, he told himself that his friends had gone into hiding somewhere or perhaps were being held prisoner; and if that were the case, then he'd find a way to free them.

He left Gwen's home and made his way through the nearly-deserted town, keeping to the shadows and smaller alleyways. He was heading for the tavern he seldom actually frequented despite Arthur's belief otherwise, thanks to Gaius's standard excuse to account for Merlin's unexplained absences at times.

Where was everyone? he wondered. It was too early for the curfew, yet the streets were oddly deserted.

He eventually found the tavern, but even it seemed strangely quiet. The reason for this, he quickly discovered, was that the place was dark and boarded up.

He sighed in frustration. It was in there he had hoped to learn more of what was going on in Camelot. Where had all the populace gone to? he wondered uneasily.

He turned away and started back the way he'd come, when he heard a soft voice say his name. Stopping, he looked around, and then noticed a small cloaked figure standing in a darkened doorway.

"Merlin?" the voice repeated, and this time he realized it was feminine.

The young warlock also was wearing a cloak and his head was covered, but somehow his face had been recognized despite his efforts to conceal his identity. He said nothing, but merely stood staring at the figure as it moved out of the doorway and came toward him.

"It is you," a girl's voice said in a hushed tone, sounding relieved, and she lifted away the hood of her own cape so he could see her face in the faint light cast by the street braziers.

"Molly?" he whispered, startled to recognize one of the scullery maids who had worked in the kitchens at the castle. She was small, barely 5 feet tall, and had light brown hair framing an elfin freckled face. Merlin knew her to be a sweet-natured girl who often got the brunt of Cook's short temper by way of a box to the ears or a tongue lashing if the girl didn't move fast enough.

Molly was staring up at him, smiling happily. "I thought that was you, Merlin," she replied. "I…I saw you leave Gwen's home…and followed you. We…we heard you'd been killed when the King was captured."

"I was left for dead, yes," he replied, glancing around to make sure they weren't being overheard. "Molly, we need to talk…but not here."

She nodded in understanding and slid her hood up back over her head. "Follow me."

* * *

Morgana and Agravaine had left Odin's stronghold and were now headed back to her hidden cottage in the dense woodlands of Camelot.

They had taken their leave of Odin following his assurances that his knights would soon discover Arthur's whereabouts, and when that happened, he'd send Morgana word. They all understood that for their plans to succeed, Camelot's young king had to be found and executed before he could raise his own army to retake his throne from Morgana.

For a good part of their journey Morgana had ridden in silence, absorbed in her own brooding thoughts, and Agravaine had respected her desire not to talk. He knew that she'd been badly shaken when she learned that the name of *Emrys* had been left behind in Arthur's cell as a message to his enemies. While Odin had not understood the meaning of the word, she and Agravaine certainly did, and knew now who had rescued Arthur.

And finding the wizard and her brother might not prove the easy task that Odin assumed it would be.

* * *

Molly led Merlin through the darkened and mostly deserted streets of the old town until they reached a small one-storey building which seemed uninhabited. Glancing furtively around, the girl fished into her cloak and produced a key, unlocked the door, and entered.

Following her inside Merlin realized they were in what had once been a bakery or a cheese shop, but no more as debris was everywhere and the shelves were empty, apparently ransacked days before.

"Is this where you live?" he asked, and she nodded. "Along with my ailing mum and younger brother. I was out searching for food when I saw you tonight."

She proceeded through the building until they came to a door that led down to the root cellar. She lit a candle and started down a set of narrow rickety stairs leading to the dark space below.

"Molly, is that you, child?" a woman's voice asked weakly, and the girl called, "Yes, momma. And I have brought a friend."

"Do not tell her my name!" Merlin whispered urgently in her ear, and although surprised by the request, the girl nodded.

In a far corner of the cellar a frail-looking woman lay on a pallet, and near her was a young boy of about five, sleeping.

"I'm sorry we have nothing to offer your friend," Molly's mother said when she saw Merlin.

"It doesn't matter, momma," the girl replied, indicating that Merlin was to stay where he was as she went over to her mother. She bent down and said, "I could not find any extra food. But at first light I shall go out again to look. Please try to go back to sleep. I brought my friend home to keep him safe off the streets for tonight."

"Then he is welcome," her mother murmured.

"Thank you, ma'am," Merlin replied.

Molly straightened up and came back over to him. "Come, let us go into this other room where we can talk."

She motioned toward another doorway in the root cellar and Merlin followed her in there. Once inside she closed the door. It was a small space hardly larger enough to be a sleeping room.

Molly set the candle down on a narrow table and turned to Merlin.

"How is it you survived?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

"Some kind people found me wounded in the woods and cared for me. But, Molly, can you tell me what happened at the castle? I'm anxious to know of the fate of my friends…Gaius, Gwen, Sir Leon, Gwaine, Elyon, and the others. Do you know?"

In the flickering candlelight he saw the deep sadness in her hazel eyes. "Oh, Merlin. They…they are all…dead."

* * *

Godwin entered the room where Arthur lay. He could hear that the young king's breathing had worsened again, and saw that his daughter had her hands placed on the youth's bare chest, her eyes closed as she tried to infuse him with healing spells.

Godwin remained silent, knowing that Alice was fighting for Arthur's life. He'd taken a turn for the worse shortly after Merlin had left for Camelot.

After several long minutes, Alice finally opened her eyes and tearfully looked up at her father.

"He is too weakened…too damaged inside. I...I cannot save him," she choked.

* * *

Devastated by what Molly had just told him about the fate of his friends, Merlin put a steadying hand out to touch a dirt wall of the small room for support.

"Molly, how…how do you know they are all dead?" he asked in a tight voice.

"Because I saw them executed, Merlin. All of them. Everyone found within the palace. I only escaped a similar fate because I'd not gone to the kitchens that day, but had stayed home to tend to my mother."

"But are you sure you saw Gaius and Gwen?"

She nodded and placed a comforting hand on his arm. "I hid among the townspeople who had gathered to watch the executions. All the knights and the King's soldiers who were captured were killed first, shot down by men armed with crossbows. Then everyone else was herded into the courtyard and executed in a similar way. The bodies were then stacked and burned on massive pyres. It…it was so…horrible."

Merlin's grief rose. Gwen and Gaius gone. The knights all gone. Other servants he had worked with, knew well…dead. How could he possibly bring Arthur such terrible news….tell him that his beloved Gwen was gone.

He swiped at his eyes, forcing the tears back, and said to Molly, "No one must know that you saw me. I cannot stress that enough, Molly. Your life…the lives of your mother and brother…could depend on it. So you must stay silent, do you understand?"

Looking frightened, she said nothing, but nodded.

He suddenly had a thought. "Molly, you said everyone within the palace was executed. What of Lord Agravaine, the King's uncle? What of him?"

She blinked in surprise. "In truth, Merlin he was not among those executed. Could he have escaped?"

He frowned. "If so, he would have been the only one apparently," he muttered, feeling a chill run up his spine. "I...I'm sorry, but I have to go. I can't stay here tonight," he said, turning to leave.

"Why?" she asked.

"I can't tell you that. But thank you for offering to shelter me. Don't worry, I'll be all right."

She walked him back to the rickety stairs that led to the upper main level.

At the bottom they hugged each other, and then Merlin left.

* * *

The next morning, when dawn broke and Molly tiredly donned her cloak with the intent of venturing out onto the streets again in search of food for her family, she found a cornucopia of fresh and dried meats, fowls, fruits, vegetables, and wine and water skins awaiting her in what had once been the shop upstairs—all courtesy of Merlin.

* * *

**PART SIX:  
Restoring The Present to the Past**

It was nearing dark when the young warlock came in sight of Alice's cottage, and wearily he put the horse her father had loaned to him in its shelter and went to the front door and knocked.

Godwin opened it, and seeing who it was, said, "Welcome back, lad. T'is good to see you safely returned."

"I'm afraid things there are as bad as we had heard," Merlin told him, entering. He set his things down and turned to Godwin. "Is Alice with Arthur?"

The older man nodded solemnly.

Something in his demeanor prompted Merlin to ask, "What is it? Is Arthur worse?"

Godwin gave him a doleful look. "Alice has tried, lad, you know she has…but the King is…not doing well."

"What?!" Merlin cried, and rushed to the room where Arthur was being kept. When he entered he saw Alice sitting by his friend's bedside, holding one of his hands.

She looked up, her happiness at seeing Merlin safely returned overshadowed by the knowledge that she had terrible news for him.

Merlin read it in her eyes and expression, and for a moment he stood frozen where he was. Arthur's face was colorless and his blond hair was soaked with fever sweat. Merlin could hear him struggling for each breath, and he knew his friend was dying.

"He hasn't awoken since you left, and the spells are failing," Alice said, her emerald eyes glistening with tears. "If I were as experienced a healer as my mother had been, I might have been able to save him," she choked. "I…I'm so sorry, Merlin."

He suddenly found himself falling to his knees beside the bed, taking Arthur's other limp hand in his. In desperation he said to the comatose young man, "Arthur, it's Merlin. Please hear me! You've never backed down from a fight since I've known you, and now you must fight for your life and get well! Camelot needs you…your people need you" He smiled a little. "And even though it pains me to admit it,…I need you." He paused, swallowing hard, before telling Arthur, "But most of all, Sire, Guinevere needs you. She is waiting for you back at the palace. I…I told her you were coming home soon. So you see, you cannot give up! You have so much to live for."

But despite Merlin's urgent pleadings, Arthur did not respond to his friend's voice, touch, or words—and grew steadily worse throughout the night.

* * *

When Alice eventually went to get some rest, Merlin refused to leave Arthur's side. He even tried to heal him using his own magic—but failed to do little more than prolong the inevitable.

In the morning Alice quietly returned to the sick room, bearing a plate of nourishment for Merlin, who was still kneeling on the floor by the bed, his forehead resting on his crossed arms. Arthur was still alive, but his breaths had grown shallower, indicating the end was drawing near.

"Please, Merlin, you need to eat and drink something," Alice said softly.

"I don't want anything," he replied in a low, exhausted voice, not even raising his head.

She knew he had fought throughout the night for Arthur's life and was depressed and devastated by his failure to save his friend.

"You've done all you could for him, Merlin, just as I tried," she said gently. "But it is just his time, and you have to let him go. Arthur would not want you to keep grieving like this. Didn't…didn't you tell me that he once said to you that no man is worth your tears?"

At her words Merlin raised his head and blinked wearily at her. "Arthur was wrong about that, Alice. He was...is…worth every man's and woman's tears in this land. Camelot will have lost…so much." He paused a moment to gather his thoughts as he looked back at his dying friend, then said despairingly, "I don't understand how this could have happened. It wasn't meant to be this way. Everything feels so wrong! It wasn't Arthur's destiny to die this young and without achieving what he was meant to do." He looked at her again, and she could see that his eyes were flat and red-rimmed. "Kilgharrah, The Great Dragon, told me that Arthur was destined to become the once and future king. That he would unite the lands of Albion and…"

"Wait, Merlin! What did you just say?" Alice interrupted, staring at him.

"That Arthur would someday join all of Albion."

"No, not that part. Well, yes that's important…but before that…about Kilgharrah telling you that Arthur was_ the once and future king_."

"Yes, Kilgharrah said that more than once, although I was never quite sure what he meant other than Arthur had a great destiny ahead of him, and that I was destined to help him achieve it. That's why we were brought together and grew so close despite who we each were…a prince and a peasant." He smiled a little in memory. "But Kilgharrah said none of that mattered because Arthur and I were two halves of the same coin, and our destinies were intertwined." He put his head back down on his arms. "But I have failed to protect Arthur…failed in my duty to him and Camelot."

Alice set the platter down and went over to him, touching his shoulder. "All may not be as lost as you now think!" she said excitedly. "I'll be right back!" and with that she hurried from the room. Within minutes she returned and went back over to Merlin, holding out her hand. In it he saw a pale blue crystal shard, much like those he'd seen hanging in the Crystal Cave, and he could feel the magic and power emanating from it.

He got to his feet. "Where did you get that?" he breathed.

"It is one of the few things that my mother left me. Along with this." She held up her other hand, and in it he saw a small crystal pendant. "My mother inscribed a message in the pendant to me. Here, let me show you." With that she slipped it on and murmured an incantation over it.

Merlin saw the pendant light up, and suddenly a small, moving image began to form in its center. Riveted, he watched as the image became clearer, more focused, and then suddenly a pretty dark haired woman's face appeared, and she began to speak. Her eyes were the same shade as Alice's.

"Alice, my dearest child, you are but an infant at the time I am inscribing this message for you. I am truly so sorry I was not there to see you grow into the lovely young woman and gifted healer I know you shall become someday. Time is of the essence and Uther's men are coming for me. Among the items I have hidden away for you to use when the time is right I have included this pendant along with a blue crystal shard. The crystal can alter time and you must safeguard it until the once and future king is in dire need of it. The crystal may only be used once, but it can undo the terrible wrong done him and restore him to the throne of Camelot. Find some way to place the shard in the hands of the great warlock Emrys. Tell him that the present must be restored to the past at the point in time that all went wrong, and he shall know the correct path of destiny to follow."

Alice looked up at Merlin. "She meant Arthur, didn't she?" and he nodded, stunned by what her mother had just said.

"How could Elsbeth possibly have foreseen what would happen to Arthur…or know of….Emrys?" he asked, awed.

"I don't know! But don't you see, Merlin? There is a way to save Arthur, to restore him to the throne if we can just find the warlock Emrys in time!" she exclaimed.

* * *

Sir Abersol and three of his men entered the village near where Alice and her father lived. The knight was in a foul mood. So far he had not been able to find anyone who could tell, or was willing to tell, where Arthur Pendragon might be hiding.

He and his men secured their horses to hitching rings in front of the only tavern in town and entered, finding it to be as such places were wont to be: low timbered ceiling, dark paneled interior, and smelling of unwashed bodies, stale ale and wood smoke. Few patrons were there since it was still morning, but Abersol and his men had been riding most of the night and were looking for a hot meal and perhaps a bed for a few hours of rest.

Telling his men to take their ease and order him a plate of the best the tavern had to offer, the knight sought out the tavern owner who also was the innkeeper. This was a burly man, short of stature, with a flushed, rounded face sporting scraggly facial hair that could hardly be called a beard.

"I'd like to procure four beds for the day," the knight told him tiredly in his graveled voice. "Not sure if my men and I will stay the night. Likely we'll be on our way by evening. But this should adequately take care of our meals and sleeping quarters."

The inn keep accepted and eyed the gold coin that Abersol handed him. "Thank ye, me lord. The rooms are out back and shall be ready after ye've broken yer fast," he assured the tall red-bearded man.

"Make certain that the straw in the mattresses is fresh and free of lice or other vermin," Abersol ordered, giving the shorter man a warning look. Then he added: "By the way, I am seeking a young fugitive—early 20s, light blond hair, very blue eyes. He likely is in great need of a healer and I do not believe he is traveling alone. Have you seen the boy or know of his whereabouts? There's a reward for his capture."

The innkeeper shook his head, unflinchingly meeting Abersol's stare. "Nay, me lord. No strangers fitting that description have passed this way, at least not that I'm aware of."

Nodding tiredly, Abersol turned away to rejoin his men at their breakfast. He was halfway across the tavern's main room when he felt a tug at the back of his cloak. Stopping, he turned to see a short and rotund young woman with mousy brown hair and pale blue eyes looking up at him a little fearfully. "Pardon, sir knight," she quavered, "but I heard ye asking me father about a young stranger and…"

Abersol grabbed her chubby forearm and demanded, "You have seen the boy I described?!"

The girl now looked as if she were about to faint. Vehemently she shook her head, squeaking, "Oh, nay, nay, me lord. The young man I saw recently was not fair-haired or ill, but he is a stranger to our village. He passed me on the road last night riding Ginny, one of Godwin Byrne's horses. I just thought it a bit strange, t'is all."

"Why strange?" Abersol asked, eyes narrowing.

The girl swallowed. "Because Godwin and his daughter Alice live alone a little ways out of town and seldom have visitors. And I've never seen the young man before. But he seemed ta be in a terrible hurry. Also…" and she faltered, suddenly unnerved by Abersol's hard, calculating stare.

"Also what, girl? Spit it out," he growled.

Blinking rapidly at him she stammered, "T'is just that…well….well…Alice does have…some knowledge of...the…the, um, healing ways. Herbs and such. She once cured me of a bad bum rash."

Abersol blinked, then abruptly released her arm, not even noticing that she rubbed at the spot where he'd gripped her so tightly. "This Alice is a healer, then. Hmm, well most villages have one. It likely means nothing to my search for the fair-haired youth, but where does this Godwin Byrne and his daughter live? Perhaps after we've eaten something my men and I will ride out there to determine who the young stranger is that you saw."

* * *

"I know…who Emrys is….where to find him…," Merlin said to Alice, his heart and spirits soaring with renewed hope as he glanced back down at the dying Arthur.

"You…know…this great wizard?!" Alice exclaimed joyously, staring at him with disbelief.

Merlin squared his shoulders and turned back to her, a half smile on his tired face. "Well, I'm not sure if I'd describe myself as 'a great wizard'…well, at least not yet…but Emrys is what the Druids call me."

The girl gaped at him. "But you are so young, Merlin! I thought my mother was referring to some old graybeard warlock!"

He gave a chuckle. "Yes, well, under certain circumstances that description would fit me." Seeing the confusion and doubt on her face, he grinned. "I've been known to use an aging spell now and then. Appearing as an 80-years-old wizard has served its purposes in the past." He looked at the fragment of blue crystal in his hand. "Your mother said that the present must be restored to the past at the point that all went wrong, and that I'd know which path of destiny to follow," he mused.

Alice looked at him earnestly. "Think, Merlin! What choice or decision did you or Arthur make that set all these terrible events into motion?"

He gave her a thoughtful look. "Arthur wanted to go hunting the day he was captured. Only he and I knew of his plans because he wanted a few hours to escape his duties as king. Yet…Odin's men knew where to find him in the woods. Which means someone in the palace must have overheard Arthur's plans and betrayed him."

"So if you can restore the present to that point in time you might be able to discover who the traitor was. Or at least dissuade the King from hunting that day!" Alice exclaimed excitedly. "And none of this will have happened!"

The two young people grinned at each other happily. And then a thought occurred to Merlin. "But, Alice, don't you realize that if I change events you and I shall never have met. I…I might not even remember you, nor you me! And for that matter, what if I go back to the day Arthur was captured, and I don't remember that I need to stop him from going hunting?"

Alice shook her head. "We must believe that at least you shall remember everything, Merlin. Otherwise what would be the purpose of using the crystal if all you and Arthur did was repeat history? But my mother said you would use the crystal to undue these terrible events. That has to mean thwarting Odin and saving Arthur's life and his throne. We know that in this time line Arthur will die young only having been a *once* king of Camelot for such a short time. When you return to the point that all of this went wrong, and change the events of that morning, and thus create an alternate time line, Arthur shall continue on with his life and fulfill his destined future to become Camelot's greatest known king, just as Kilgharrah foretold. That must be what The Great Dragon meant when he referred to Arthur as _the **once** and **future** king_!"

* * *

Sir Abersol and his men finished their meal, and then prepared to leave for Godwin Byrne's cottage deep in the forest. After getting the directions from Cyrus Burrell the innkeeper, the knight and his band rode out.

Watching them go, Cyrus said to his daughter, "I'm not sure t'was right ta tell that big man what ye'd seen, Bertha girl. Godwin is a friend, and I don't like the idea of any trouble comin' ta him or Alice."

His daughter shrugged indifferently. She'd always been secretly jealous of Alice, and the young man who had ridden past her on Ginny the night before was quite pleasant looking. She had smiled charmingly at him, but he'd merely glanced at her as if he hadn't really seen her, and as she watched him ride past she enviously wondered if he was a suitor for Godwin's pretty daughter.

Bertha gave her father a sideways look and told him, "The knight said there'd be a reward if he finds that fugitive. I was just doing me duty when I told him I'd seen a dark-haired young stranger ta these parts." And with that she turned and waddled back into the tavern.

* * *

Arthur's breathing began to falter, and leaning over him, Alice said anxiously, "Merlin, you must use the crystal now, or we shall lose him!"

"I'm not sure what to do…how to make it work!" the young warlock replied with uncertainty, staring at the crystal in his hand.

Alice came over to him, taking his face in both of her hands. "My mother said you'd somehow know. So concentrate on it, Merlin! Use your instincts! Save the King...and save Camelotl!" With that she kissed him deeply, then let go and stepped away from him.

Just then Godwin hurried into the room. "Four big men on horseback have just ridden up, and they look like trouble! The leader is a bald red-bearded fellow! What am I to do?"

Merlin and Alice exchanged looks of alarm, recognizing Abersol's description. "You must delay them, Father!" Alice told him urgently. "The leader is the one who tortured Arthur. He must not come in here and find him, or he will slay the King, and us as well!"

Godwin nodded grimly and left. There was a loud, insistent pounding at the front door, and almost immediately Merlin and Alice could hear Abersol's unmistakable graveled voice demanding to be let in to search the cottage in the name of King Odin, the new ruler of Camelot.

"Use the crystal _NO_W, Merlin!" Alice cried.

They locked gazes for a final goodbye, and then he clasped the crystal in both hands, closing his eyes and clearing his thoughts so that he could concentrate fully on it. Almost immediately his mind was filled with a kaleidoscope of dizzying images and sounds, and he realized it was as if time was rewinding, going backward.

The last thing he recalled was hearing Alice's fading voice say, "Goodbye...Merlin...I...love...you!"—.and then he felt himself falling until there was a blinding light—and he awoke with a jolt to find himself lying on his narrow bed back at Camelot's palace. As his equilibrium returned he realized that his bedroom door was slightly ajar, and through the narrow opening he could hear the familiar sound of Gaius's loud snoring as he slumbered peacefully in the outer chamber.

Smothering an exuberant whoop of pure joy, Merlin sat up. Lifting his clenched right fist he opened it to see he was still holding the crystal Alice had given him. But now it was no longer blue, but had gone a milky white, its interior frosted and cracked.

* * *

**PART SEVEN:  
Ferreting Out A Spy**

Merlin hurried toward Arthur's chambers, smiling happily at the few other servants, including Guinevere, who were up and about the palace at such an early hour. He had remembered everything: the ambush that resulted in Arthur's abduction and subsequent torture by Odin and Abersol, his own near-fatal injury from the crossbow bolt, the fall of Camelot and the deaths of Gwen, Gaius, and the rest of their friends, and what he owed to Alice and her father for risking their lives for him and Arthur. He especially wanted to dwell on those memories of the time he'd spent with Alice, but knew that would have to wait because right now he had to find a way to dissuade Arthur from going hunting that morning, and he was already running late.

As soon as he entered the King's chambers he saw Arthur sitting on the side of his bed, pulling over his head the servant's hooded garment which he'd be using as his disguise when he left the palace.

Hearing Merlin's arrival, Arthur settled the garment into place and looked up, his vivid blue eyes shooting him an annoyed glance. "Merlin! There you are! Where on earth have you been?" he complained. "It's already past dawn. Why didn't you awaken me earlier? We must be away from here now if I'm to have any chance of a peaceful morning to myself."

Merlin bit his lip. It was apparent Arthur was anxious to get going without delay. "I'm terribly sorry, Sire. I somehow, uh, overslept."

"Always an excuse with you, Merlin," Arthur retorted, standing to fasten his pants.

Hiding a smile, the young warlock held out the tray in his hands which was over-laden with enticing foods he'd gotten from the kitchens before coming to Arthur's rooms. "I know you haven't broken your fast yet, and it really would be a shame to let this all go to waste."

Arthur eyed the tray appreciably but shook his blond head. Pulling on his boots, he said, "Weren't you paying attention last night when I told you not to bring me anything this morning? You were only to pack some dried venison, hard rolls, and flasks of water to take with us. There's no time for me to eat such a large meal now." He stopped talking and looked at Merlin more directly. "Wait a moment. You aren't even dressed to go out. Why is that?"

Thinking quickly, Merlin smiled in apology. "I'm sorry, Sire. But…the weather has taken a bad turn and it's snowing heavily. It looks to be quite a storm, and I fear you might not be able to go hunting this morning."

Arthur frowned at him. "What do you mean it's snowing? Right before you arrived I looked out, and the day has dawned bright and clear, if a little cool. There wasn't a cloud in the sky." He stood and walked over to one of the windows in his chambers.

Behind his back, Merlin raised his hand, and with eyes glowing, silently spoke an incantation.

Arthur unlatched the heavy shutters and opened one of the panels so he could peer out at the new day. Sure enough, it was snowing heavily, and the young king could even feel sleet pelting at his face and hair. For a long moment he stood staring out the window, and when he finally shut it again and turned around Merlin could clearly see the frustration and disappointment etched on his handsome face. "Very well, I supposed I've no choice but to postpone hunting today," he muttered dejectedly, and then crossed over to his dressing screen and disappeared behind it. Merlin could hear him changing from the servant's disguise into his normal clothing.

Breathing a sigh of relief that his trick of making Arthur think it was snowing out had dissuaded him from wanting to leave the palace, he set the tray of food down on the table. He knew that in a short time it would actually begin to snow and sleet and Arthur would be none the wiser by the time the real storm arrived. Merlin just needed to keep him in his chambers a while longer so he didn't look out any other windows in the palace until then.

Merlin went over to the large stone fireplace and added more logs onto the flames to help warm the chilly room now that they'd be staying in. "I know you are disappointed, Sire," he called out as he stirred up the fire. "But there'll be other days when you can get away to hunt. If you'd been caught out in such bad weather today, you might have been taken…ill or worse… so perhaps it is for the best."

"Please stop trying to make me feel better, Merlin," Arthur grumbled from behind the screen, pulling on his day tunic. "It truly isn't helping. Now all I have to look forward to is another endless meeting with my uncle and the Council."

"I know, Sire, but that won't be until much later. In the meantime I can keep Lord Agravaine and anyone else at bay so you can relax and enjoy a quiet morning in here. Why don't we play a game of chess, and I might actually let you win this time." He was rewarded with Arthur's indignant snort of protest. "_Let_ me win?! I always beat you fairly!" he said as he came from behind the screen and strode over to Merlin.

The young warlock grinned at him, pulling a chair out for Arthur to sit in at the table. "We shall see who truly is master of the game. But first, Sire, just sit here before this cozy fire and enjoy the delicious breakfast awaiting your pleasure."

Giving Merlin a somewhat disgruntled look, Arthur sat down, then eyed the spread the other youth had laid out for him. "Well, I will confess you've outdone yourself this morning, Merlin," he admitted. "It does look quite good." He picked up a flaky plum tart and bit into it.

As Merlin helped serve him he said innocently, "Cook all but boxed my ears when I snatched some of those fresh-baked plum tarts you so favor, even though they aren't good for your waistline. But perhaps you can get in some extra weapons practice when the weather improves."

He turned away, grinning, then ducked when Arthur picked up a roll and threw it at him, declaring with mock indignation, "How many times must I tell you, Merlin, I…am…not..getting…fat!"

* * *

Later, while Arthur left for his meetings with Lord Agravaine and the Council, Merlin set his plans into motion.

First, he went to Agravaine's chambers to search them while he was occupied. It did not take long to find what he was looking for. In a locked chest, which he easily opened using his magic, there was a leather pouch which contained a number of vials. Uncorking one Merlin sniffed at its liquid contents, picking up a faint scent that was oddly familiar. He dribbled a little of the fluid onto his forefinger and tasted it carefully just as Gaius had taught him. His mentor's tutelage served him well, and he immediately recognized a hint of valerian root and scullcap, among others.

Feeling a little light-headed, Merlin stared in dismay at the vial in his hand. This was a powerful sleeping draught—the kind that when added to other liquids, such as water or ale or wine, could not be easily detected. It was so potent that it was actually outlawed because it could also be lethal if taken in the wrong dosage. So why would Agravaine have so many vials of the deadly potion? If he was an insomniac all he had to do was ask Gaius for a safer remedy that would work as effectively.

Suddenly Merlin understood the purpose of the draught. If Agravaine had managed to drug the inhabitants of the castle, then Odin's men could easily have taken the citadel. It had not made sense to Merlin until now how Arthur's valorous knights and soldiers had so easily been overtaken in the alternate time line.

He sighed in frustration. If he told Arthur of his suspicion that his trusted and beloved uncle was somehow in league with Odin, all he had to show for such a serious accusation was the vial of potion, which he'd acquired by snooping through Agravaine's personal things. If questioned, Arthur's wily uncle would likely come up with a plausible excuse for having the draught in his possession, and Merlin would find himself out of a job...or worse.

So all he could do for now was thwart Agravaine's nefarious plan, if indeed there was one.

Merlin took the rest of the vials out of the pouch, and one by one whispered a spell over each to turn its deadly contents into a harmless infusion of distilled dandelion juice and chamomile tea. Agravaine would be none the wiser unless he tried to use them for the reasons Merlin suspected.

Feeling he'd done all he could for the moment, the young warlock returned everything to the chest and sealed it again, then left.

* * *

Returning to Arthur's chambers, Merlin put the second part of his plan into motion: determining how someone might have overheard the King's plan to go hunting with only his manservant for company.

The young warlock doubted that someone had been able to actually hide in Arthur's rooms as there would have been few places in which to be concealed without risk of detection, such as the large wardrobe chest or behind the window curtains. Besides, guards were always posted outside the King's quarters and few people were ever actually allowed access to Arthur in his private space without his knowledge or approval.

Yet he and Merlin had only discussed the secret plan to go hunting in Arthur's chambers. So how had they been overheard?

He went to Arthur's desk and rummaged through scrolls and parchments stacked there until he found the original plans for the palace which had been stored down in the library archives for years. He and Arthur had recently retrieved them because the young king had some ideas for expansion, and he wanted to study the original designs.

Merlin carefully perused the ancient document until he found what was now Arthur's current quarters. Some of the sketch had faded with time, but he was still able to recognize the basic layout of the rooms.

At first he did not see anything that might help him in his search since the architectural design of Arthur's chambers was fairly simple; but then a set of narrow vertical lines caught his eye. Leaning closer he studied their orientation to the room he was seated in, and then looked up and around, smiling.

He now had a good idea of how he and Arthur had been overheard.

Merlin put away the plans and got up to walk over to the wardrobe cabinet. It was a massive piece of furniture, nearly ceiling high and it sat about six inches from the wall. Peering behind it Merlin saw what he was looking for: the small opening to a narrow air shaft that had been built into the castle's original design. The opening was located near the ceiling but was hidden from casual view behind the furniture.

Merlin surmised that the wardrobe had been placed there years ago in that spot because it was the most logical space in the room to contain such a huge piece of furniture—yet it had not been set solidly against the wall because of the air shaft, which could still help ventilate the chamber.

Now all he had to do was see where it opened onto the rooftop of the palace, and test his theory.

* * *

Wearily Arthur returned to his rooms. The Council meeting had been endlessly boring and given him a mild headache, and now all he wanted to do was relax, take a long hot bath, and then enjoy a nap.

"Merlin?" he called out as he entered his chambers. "Are you in here?"

Although he didn't see the other youth, he heard his faint, muffled voice reply, "How was the meeting, Sire?"

"Riveting as always." The young king stopped talking and stood still, blinking and looking around for the source of the disembodied voice of his manservant. "I can hear you…but cannot see you. What on earth are you about, Merlin?" he demanded. "Is this some sort of hide-and-seek game? If so, I've really not the mood for it."

"Not exactly, Sire," came back the ghostly voice. "I'm testing a theory. See if you can tell where I am by the sound of my voice."

Puzzled by such an odd request, Arthur walked about the room, checking behind the window curtains, looking inside the wardrobe, and then going over to his bed to bend down to peer under it. But there was still no Merlin. Straightening up he put his hands on his hips and said, "I give up. You do realize I am standing here alone, talking to the air. That's hardly a kingly thing to be doing."

"I'm sorry, Sire! I'll be right down."

"Down?" Arthur muttered, not understanding. But then Merlin often did and said odd things that left him baffled at times.

Within minutes the young man appeared, obviously out of breath. His cheeks were rosy red and he had snow on his hair, clothing, and boots.

"There you are, Merlin! I can see you've been outside in the cold," Arthur observed, looking him up and down. "The question is, why…and where?"

"I've been up on the roof," the other youth grinned, brushing himself off. "It's still snowing out, by the way."

"Yes, I can see that by the mess you're making on the floor," Arthur retorted, coming over to him. "Why would you go up on the roof at all, and especially in a snow storm?"

"I'll show you." Merlin replied, and walked over to the wardrobe, motioning for Arthur to follow him.

Rolling his eyes the King joined him, and Merlin moved aside, telling him, "Look behind there, Arthur. There's an old air shaft. I, umm, discovered it when I was checking for woodworm while you were out. Some snow had accumulated at the opening, and I was curious as to where it might lead."

Arthur gave him an odd look and remarked dryly, "What is this obsession you have about woodworm, Merlin?"and then he moved to peer behind the wardrobe. "I see the air shaft, but I'm not sure what it has to do with testing some sort of theory." he said, turning to look at his friend.

"Arthur, don't you see? If I could hear you talking to me from up on the roof, then someone else could also hear anything that you say in here, if they knew the shaft is up there!"

"I see your point," Arthur muttered. "But isn't it unlikely anyone else even knows the thing exists anymore? It's so ancient."

Merlin shook his head. "No, Sire, when I went up there, I found footsteps in the snow leading straight to the shaft outlet. Someone does know…and I believe goes there to listen to your private conversations in here. I…I think it was good that we did not go hunting this morning. Your life might have been in danger if others knew you had planned to leave the palace without any guards for protection."

Now Arthur looked uneasy. "Yes, I see," he nodded. "Likely you are right, Merlin. Then the thing to do is to post someone up there to wait and watch to determine who has been listening."

Merlin smiled reassuringly. "Consider it done, Sire. Now, shall I prepare you a nice hot bath?"

* * *

**Epilogue**

Keeping to the shadows of the alleyways and side streets of the old town, the cloaked figure followed his quarry at a distance. He watched as the other man, also concealed beneath a cloak and hood, ducked into a dead end ally.

At the far end of the narrow passage Sir Abersol was waiting for his spy from the palace. And he was angry. The servant's information had not proven correct. Camelot's young king had not gone hunting three days before as the spy had told him was Arthur's plan, and the knight and his five men had waited endless hours hiding out in the woodlands and been caught in the worst snowstorm known to hit the regions in years.

He heard a scuttling sound coming toward him, and looking down saw a large brown rat scurry past his feet, and the knight grimaced with distaste. He hated rats, but most of all he hated this dismal place and was anxious to be away from here once he learned if his spy had any news of Arthur Pendragon's future activities that would give Abersol another chance at abducting him.

Finally he heard the sound of approaching footsteps and saw the hooded and cloaked figure of his spy approaching. "It's about time," the knight grated in a whisper. "You'd better have brought me some better news this time."

The figure stopped a few paces away from him and raised his head, pushing the hood back, and in the dim light cast by the large overhead moon Abersol saw a face he did not recognize, a youthful face with bright blue eyes framed by a cap of dark brown hair.

"What? Who are you?" the big knight demanded, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword which was hidden beneath his cloak.

"I am Merlin, King Arthur's personal manservant," the young man replied calmly. He opened his cloak, and then held his hands out to show he was unarmed. "As you see, my lord, I carry no weapons."

Abersol relaxed a little. "Did Gerrad send you in his stead then, boy, with news of your master's plan to go hunting alone now that the weather has broken?"

Giving the knight a lopsided grin, Merlin replied, "No, my lord, Gerrid didn't send me. Rather, I followed him here because I have come to ensure that you can never hurt Arthur again."

At his strange words and look Abersol frowned. "Hurt him again? Why, I've never even laid eyes on the young Pendragon before!"

"That's not quite true," Merlin replied. "You captured Arthur, then tortured, whipped and caned him near to death on the orders of your evil master, King Odin. I'm here to set things right this time."

Abersol gave an uneasy laugh and pulled his sword. "You are obviously mad! You no more know the King of Camelot than I do!" and he started toward Merlin with the intent of running him through with his blade.

But before he could strike, the young warlock threw out his hand, eyes glowing dangerously.

_"Equitirium nosromous rattus norvegicus rubrum!"_

There was a brief flash of light which illuminated the dark alley, and Abersol's sword clattered noisily to the flagstone pavement. Where the big knight had been standing now appeared a huge rat with dark red fur enveloped in the man's cloak, which had crumpled to the filthy pavement next to the sword.

The rat frantically worked its way out of the tangle of material, and squealing in fright scurried away from Merlin and toward the back of the dead end alley. With nowhere to go, it huddled in terror behind a crate where the other rat Abersol had seen earlier had taken refuge.

Chuckling, Merlin headed back toward the entrance to the passageway, pausing at its opening to whisper a summoning command. Suddenly out of the darkness came a dozen stray and starving cats, who quickly picked up the scent of the two fat rats trapped at the back of the alley.

Smiling with grim satisfaction, the young warlock watched the cats pour down the alleyway, then turned and left, knowing that the rat-knight and his rat-spy Gerrid were about to meet a grisly fate.

Now all Merlin wanted to do was get back to the palace and chat with Gaius in their chambers until bedtime. Arthur had talked of going hunting in a day or two, and Merlin now knew that this time it would be safe for the once and future king of Camelot to venture out for a few hours to do what he enjoyed most—with his faithful companion and secret protector by his side as always.

_***Finis***_

**Thank you for reading this story, and I hope you enjoyed it.**

**I have now uploaded my second story, BLOOD MOON RISING, which is in the genres of Dark Drama, Action-Adventure, Fantasy & Mysticism, with some angst and humor thrown in.**

**The storyy summary is this:**

**"Arthur is lured into a deadly trap by a high priestess of the Old Religion whose evil mistress, the Serpent Goddess, has chosen him to be ritually sacrificed during an event called Blood Moon to atone for Uther's sins. While Arthur's knights set out to rescue their young king, Merlin undertakes his own quest to save his friend." (Takes place in Series 4 after Uther's death and prior to Arthur's wedding to Gwen.)**


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